Forgotten Angels
by ToesNtheWater
Summary: Clary and her family must flee the city when her sadistic father returns to their lives. At Luke's farmhouse Clary meets the Lightwoods and their adopted son, Jace. The misunderstood teens must overcome their difficult pasts together.OOC/Human/no bro/sis
1. Prologue

Forgotten Angels

_**Disclaimer: The Mortal Instruments Trilogy and all affiliated characters belong to Cassandra Clare**_

**A/N: This is just a short introduction to my new story. The rest of the chapters will be much longer. This is primarily a Clary/Jace romance. Everyone is human and things will get very "mature." Hope you enjoy! **

**Prologue**

"_Angels are bright still though the brightest fell." -Shakespeare, Macbeth. _

Clary still had on the silly plastic princess crown Simon gave her at the restaurant. Her sixteenth birthday wasn't quite as exciting as she'd imagined, but dinner with her best friend and her family made for a nice evening. When her mother opened the door to their Brooklyn apartment, a small red light blinked in the darkness. Clary and Luke stumbled in behind her chuckling about a clumsy waitress that spilt coffee in an old man's lap.

Jocelyn tossed her keys on the dining room table and turned to her daughter. "I'll get the machine."

"Erase it if it's something stupid." Clary replied. "Hopefully Simon didn't get his band to sing Happy Birthday to me again." She rolled her eyes and smirked, as she turned to walk out of the room. Jocelyn reached for the blinking button, pressing it with her long index finger.

Clary was in her room when she heard the unfamiliar voice echo through the apartment. She couldn't make out what he was saying, but the message sounded angry. Staring into the mirror she pulled the crown out of her fiery red hair, the plastic prongs were digging uncomfortably into her scalp.

Suddenly her door flew open. Jocelyn ran in and began to frantically dig through Clary's closet. She reached for her brown suitcase and threw it on her bed. Clary just stood there confused and unable to speak. The look on her mother's face was alarming. Her porcelain features were contorted into a worried grimace of shock and terror. "Come on Clary!" She shouted as she flung open her dresser drawers and indiscriminately tossed clothes into the open suitcase.

Tears of frustration began to flow from Clary's eyes. She muttered quietly, trying to stifle a sob. "Mom, what's going on?"

Jocelyn didn't turn her head to look at her daughter. She shouted in a loud and frantic voice, "He found us Clary." The plastic crown slipped from her grip and hit the hardwood floor with a quiet rattle.

**A/N:** Thanks for reading, please review!


	2. Angel of the Night

**Forgotten Angels**

_Disclaimer: The Mortal Instruments Trilogy and all affiliated characters belong to Cassandra Clare_

A/N: Here's the real first chapter. It's mostly background and angst. Hope you enjoy!

**Chapter 1: Angel of the Night**

After nearly sixteen years of successful evasion, Clary's father had found her and her mother. Valentine wasn't your average neglectful father. He was guilty of much more than a few missed birthdays. Jocelyn's fair skin still wore the evidence of their five year relationship. Each scar had a different story, each one of them tragic in their own way.

Clary's hands began to tremble as she moved to her mother's side and pulled clothes from her drawers. She couldn't concentrate on what she was doing. Her mind was overwhelmed with terror, and it was all she could do to move. "Clarissa!" Jocelyn shouted. "Pull it together! I won't let anything happen to you." Clary nodded, but she wasn't convinced. She knew how violent her father was; she knew why Jocelyn never wore a bathing suit, and always put extra make up on her left cheek. It pained her to see the marks on her mother's body. How could someone that was supposed to love her treat her so badly. Jocelyn's voice interrupted her thoughts. "Go to the bathroom. Pack a bag of our toiletries." She had to force herself to leave her mother's side. Putting one foot in front of the other she hesitantly marched to the bathroom. "Hurry Clary!"

Turning the bathroom light on, Clary avoided the mirror. She couldn't stand to look at the tomato complexion that stained her porcelain features when she cried. She just reached under the sink and found an old makeup case full of old hotel shampoos. Opening the bag, she held it against the counter and with a long sweeping motion of her arm she raked Jocelyn's makeup into the bag. She threw their toothbrushes on top and hurried back into the bedroom.

Her mother whipped her head around to see her standing idly in the doorway. "Clary, go give the bag to Luke. He'll carry it down to his truck." For all intents and purposes Luke was Clary's father. He wasn't married to Jocelyn, but he had been in her life since she was two. He was her mother's best friend, and Clary's protector and confidant. She always wondered what it would have been like if her mother had married Luke instead of Valentine. She would have never been born, but her mother would have been happy. In her mind, it was a fair trade.

Clary walked into the hall and shouted his name, "Luke."

"In here, Clary!" The voice came from her mother's bedroom. She walked in his direction and leaned against the door frame. He was in the same position as her mother, on his knees, throwing clothes over his back into an open suitcase. "Have you been crying?" He faked a smile in her direction. The tiny wrinkles in his forehead were deeper and more defined than usual, he was worried.

She rolled her eyes and lied. "No."

His tone was gentle and understanding, "It's okay to be upset. I know this is quite a shock and on your birthday _too_. I'm sorry about that. It's really not fair." He ran his fingers nervously through his chestnut hair. His blue flannel shirt was a wrinkled mess, and his light jeans were torn but not in a fashionable way. His glasses would have made Drew Carey jealous. Luke was never too caught up in appearances. Jocelyn admired that in him.

"I don't think we have time for me to be all selfish and whiney over this. It's not as if anyone planned for Valentine to make his dramatic return on my birthday." She sighed and tried to fake a sarcastic laugh.

"Stop pretending Clary, you always rub your temples when you're upset."

"But I'm nah…" Before she could object she noticed her fingers resting on the sides of her head.

"All right this will have to do. If your mom wants anymore clothes then we'll just have to buy them." He walked to the bed and sloppily stuffed the clothes into the suitcase. It wouldn't close. "A little help here please."

"You want me to sit on that thing?" He smirked. Under any other circumstances, it would have been funny. Clary hopped up on the bed then plopped on the suitcase. He fastened the buckles and jerked the case up in his hand, nearly throwing Clary off the bed. Clearly Luke was frantic with worry, but he tired his best to hide it from her.

"Is your mother ready? We need to go?" She shrugged. "Jocelyn!" He shouted.

"I'm coming." She hurried out of Clary's room dragging the suitcase awkwardly behind her. Her tone was calm and sarcastic. "We don't need luggage with wheels I said." It was just like her to make jokes at a time like this. She always tried to cover fear with humor, not unlike her daughter.

Luke smirked, "I'll get it." He had a huge suitcase in each hand. For a guy who worked in a bookstore, he was incredibly strong. His biceps bulged under his flannel shirt.

"Clary get the lights." All the worry had returned to Jocelyn's face. "Make sure you have your cell phone."

"It's in my pocket." She patted a bulge on the side of her jeans. Then she flicked the light switch, and the room was once again shrouded in darkness. A sick feeling rose in the pit of Clary's stomach. Her apartment no longer felt like home. It wasn't a sanctuary anymore, but a sacred place defiled by a monster. She sighed deeply and took one last look around the shadowy room, as she closed the door behind her.

Luke was half way down the stairs when Jocelyn locked the door, "I don't know why I'm doing this." She said. "If he wants in, he'll get in." Clary didn't respond. She just hung her head and turned to follow Luke. The suitcases were banging against the walls of the stairwell as he lumbered clumsily toward the landing.

When they finally got outside, he tossed the luggage into the back of his 1995 red Chevy pickup truck. Luke's choice of automobiles was a lot like his taste in fashion, all practicality and no flash. It was old but it got them around. Luke took his usual place in the driver's seat, and Clary climbed into the middle. Jocelyn sat by the window and there was no room for personal space. It was stuffy and crowded, and their elbows knocked together every time someone shifted. The air conditioner didn't work so they had to leave the windows down to avoid death by heatstroke. The uncomfortable nature of the truck was compounded by the tremendous tension that put everyone on a nervous edge.

Luke shoved the key into the ignition and turned it over. The engine roared to life and they started to roll in a unexpected direction. "Aren't we going back into the city to find a hotel?" Clary asked.

"No of course not." Jocelyn's voice was stern. "He knows we're in the city. We have to get out of New York."

"Where are we going then?"

Luke chimed in. "My farmhouse. You remember, don't you? We went there every summer when you were little."

"Yeah of course." Clary replied. But her thoughts didn't go back to the days she spent at the farmhouse. Instead they were fixated on the nights she spent with Simon, when her mother went alone with Luke to his house in the country. She said she was helping him paint. It was a good enough of an excuse, with her being a professional artist, but Clary was always suspicious. She couldn't help but wonder how her mother and Luke acted alone, surely they had to feel something for each other, something more than friendship. But what reason would they have for hiding it from her? Clary wouldn't be angry if they _did_ want to take things to the next level. She sighed and shook off the questions. She had more important things to worry about.

"Mom?" Clary said.

"Yes?"

"What about school?" It's only the beginning of May. I'm barely passing geometry as it is. If I miss a lot of days, there's no way I'll pull a C. "

"You can't go to that school anymore Clary. Not until we know it's safe." Her tone was pleading.

"But Mom…"

Jocelyn's tone was stern and unwavering. "No Clarissa! We aren't going to argue about this. It's not a question of what we want to do. This is a matter of safety. So you're just going to have to trust me. If we have to, we'll get you a tutor. We'll make it work, don't worry about little things like that."

Clary sighed, "Fine." She couldn't remember her mother ever referring to her education as a _little thing_.

"Besides there's a high school near the house, you can enroll there. Your last name will have to be changed though. We can't risk him finding you through the school."

Clary rolled her eyes, and her tone was belligerent. "Great a new school, one more thing to worry about."

Jocelyn offered a reassuring smile. "It'll be okay, the Lightwoods live next door to that house now. They have some kids about your age." "Who?" She didn't recognize the name.

"They're old friends. They have two kids, Alex I think and Isabelle."

"Alec." Luke corrected her.

"Yeah you're right." Jocelyn agreed. "And an adopted son I think. I don't know his name." Clary waited for Luke to provide the answer, but he just sat there with a cautious look on his face, like he knew something and didn't want to tell her.

But Clary wasn't worried about Luke. She hated the thought of having to befriend the neighbor kids. She was never terribly comfortable in social situations. Simon was her best friend, and he was a enough. Meeting new people made her nervous. Most of the time she tried to stand in a corner and say as little as possible. Invisibility was the goal.

The stress was starting to overwhelm Clary. The threat of her father, a new house, a new school and new people. It was all too much. She was trembling. Jocelyn put her arm around Clary, and she leaned into her mother. The sudden rush of emotion was exhausting. The slow rock of the moving truck had become soothing. She didn't mean to sleep, but when she closed her eyes the glow of the headlights faded into a troubled slumber.

_Suddenly Clary was back in her bedroom, staring at a picture on her nightstand. It was her mother, she was holding a baby. Except this time, the baby wasn't her. The infant didn't have tiny wisps of red hair. Instead it was a dark haired child, dressed in blue, a tiny football embroidered on it's shirt. It was her brother. The picture began to move, the baby wailed loudly in her mother's arms. Then someone was else there, taking the baby from Jocelyn. The man wore all black. His white hair and callous expression were terrifying. He didn't look at the tiny boy with love. Hatred flared in his eyes. He loathed weakness, even from an infant. Valentine dropped the screaming baby, without the slightest look of remorse on his face. The child fell from the photo and flames rose to engulf the rest of frame. The picture melted into ashes and blew away. Clary gasped and began to sob. Jonathan! She wanted to scream, but the words wouldn't come. All she could do was stand there, feeling hopeless and defeated. _

"Clary! Clary!" Her mother's voice broke through the fog of the nightmare. "Wake up sweetheart." Her eyes slowly fluttered open. Her legs were stiff from sitting so long, and she could feel a light sheen of sweat on her face. "You were having a nightmare." Jocelyn's voice was calmer than before. "We're almost there."

Clary strained her eyes trying to make out anything in the darkness outside the car. She was so used to the city lights that this place seemed desolate almost inhospitable. She could see nothing but trees and a two lane road. The glow of the headlights against a seemingly endless black highway, it was a bleak image.

Suddenly Luke made a sharp turn and Clary could make out several little houses that dotted the landscape. It was the first sign of civilization she'd seen since she woke up, it was a strangely comforting sight. It didn't take long for Luke to pull into a short driveway in front of a small, dark colored house. He parked in front of the garage that wasn't connected to the main structure. He slid off the vinyl seat and dug in his pocket. He pulled out a silver key that gleamed in the headlights. The garage door was chained shut with a thick rusty lock. After a few seconds of prodding he finally got the key into the hole. Clary looked upon the scene with wary eyes. She silently hoped that the lack of an automatic garage door wasn't a sign of things to come. Hopefully modern technology hadn't completely eluded the farmhouse.

The heavy white wooden door flew open, revealing a dusty tool-filled room cloaked in eerie shadows. Luke returned to his seat in the truck, and pulled forward. They rolled to a stop, and he killed the lights. It was dark in the garage, the only light was the faint glow of moonlight that filtered in through the open door.

"Come on Clary." Jocelyn broke the long silence. "Let's get our stuff in the house." Clary followed her mother out of the pickup.

Luke walked around and lifted their luggage from the truck bed. "I'll get it girls, go on in." They didn't argue. "Here you go." He tossed Jocelyn his keys, and they walked out of the dark room into the night. Clary surveyed the area with an artist's scrutiny. There was only one house close to Luke's. It was much bigger, white, two stories with a wrap around porch and a balcony on the second level. It was the kind of house you saw in movies, that were supposed to represent the typical American home. It was a far cry from her apartment back in Brooklyn and even from Luke's small, brick ranch style house. There was only about fifty feet of yard space and no fence separating the two. She figured that it was probably because they were friends. The other house must belong to the Lightwoods. Clary noticed that there was still a single light burning in one of the upstairs bedrooms. It was nearly three a.m. She saw a figure move in front of the window. It appeared to be a boy with light colored hair. Maybe he heard them pull up?

She turned her head when she heard her mother open the door. Luke wasn't far behind, toting a suitcase on each arm. Clary took a few timid steps on to the wooden porch. The dusty planks creaked with each step. She hated this kind of house. It was old, everything creaked, squeaked or moaned. The sounds were unsettling. She walked over the threshold and her mother flipped on a light. She was standing in the living room. There was a large picture window with white flowery curtains. Her mother had definitely decorated this place. The walls were covered with pale yellow paint, Jocelyn's favorite color. She called it the shade of happiness. The furniture, a couch and a chair, was a light wicker with thick white cushions. It was different than she remembered. Clary thought it looked comfortable, not like home, but a nice place to rest.

Luke spoke as he trudged through the door frame. "I'll take your suitcase to your room Clary. It's right at the end of the hall. Do you remember?"

"Yeah, I think so" She replied.

"We've done some redecorating since you've been here. I hope you like it." He sounded oddly excited. She followed Luke down the hall. He opened a white bedroom door and flipped on the light. Releasing the suitcase with a sigh he smiled, "Well, this is it." He pushed his glasses back up his nose, an anxious expression on his face. Clary scanned the room with an artist's eye. The walls were a bright blue somewhere between ocean water and turquoise. The duvet was the exact same color as the walls. Someone had spent an awful lot of time at Sherwin Williams to get it exactly right. The room was accented with white curtains and pillows.

It was a little too matchy for Clary's taste, like something out of a magazine. She smiled genuinely at Luke. "It's great."

"Your mother and I always hoped you'd get to stay here again. I hate that it's under these circumstances, but we decorated this room with you in mind. Of course you were twelve at the time, but we hope you'll still like it."

"It's great, I appreciate you keeping a room here for me." Her tone was sincere.

"Oh shut up Clary." He chuckled playfully. "What would a house be without you?" Luke took a few steps in her direction and leaned down to wrap her in an embrace. He kissed her lovingly on the forehead and turned to leave. "Good night or good morning. Either way you want to think of it, you should get some sleep."

"Good night Luke." He smiled and walked out of the room. Clary bent down to open her suitcase. She rooted through the chaotic assortment of clothes in search of some pajamas. None of the pieces seemed to match. So she settled on Christmas candy cane bottoms and a plain white tank top. Quickly changing, she tossed her clothes to hardwood floor and pulled back her bedcovers. Jocelyn was in her doorway before she could even get into bed.

"Good night Clary." Her mother spoke quickly as she walked past her open door.

Her tone was thoughtful as she shouted after the obviously frantic woman. "Mom?"

Jocelyn stopped moving and settled in the doorway. "Yes dear."

"What did Valentine say in that message?"

Jocelyn's smile faded. "I don't want you to be scared. It's not important. We're keeping you safe here. You don't have to worry about it."

Clary scowled. "Mom! I'm not a child. I want to know the truth."

"I know you aren't a child." Jocelyn replied. "But I don't want to burden you with this."

"Tell me!" Clary demanded.

"No, I can't. It would be irresponsible of me." She was resolute.

"Mom, if some crazy guy is on the loose looking for me, don't you think it would be helpful if I knew exactly what he wanted."

Jocelyn sighed, "You _know_ what he wants Clary…Us. He wants me to come back to him, and he wants to be with his daughter."

"What if we don't want the same thing?" Clary asked.

"I don't want to tell you this." Jocelyn protested.

"Mom, I have to know!" She paused. "He threatened to kill us, didn't he?" Jocelyn nodded. Clary shuddered, and her hands began to tremble again. Her voice became soft and timid, "He wouldn't do that though, would he?"

Jocelyn rubbed her tired eyes, and shrugged. "Well you know about Jonathan." There was noticeable pain in her voice when she said her son's name. "We could never prove anything, but you know what I believe about that." Tears started to flow from Clary's eyes, and her mother moved to her side. Jocelyn sat down and wrapped her arms around her daughter. Clary moved her hand onto her mother's back and she could feel a long raised scar through her shirt. "I'm so sorry Clary." A lump rose in the back of her throat, and Jocelyn began to sob.

Clary tried to stifle her tears so she could speak. "It's not your fault Mom."

"I just can't believe I was so stupid and naïve, but I was so young, only a few years older than you. I probably wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you. Thank you Clary." She furrowed her brows. "What are you talking about?"

"I didn't find the strength to leave him until I was pregnant with you." She smiled through her tears. "You and Jonathan were the only good things to come out of that relationship. I just hate I couldn't be as strong for him as I was for you." Clary's expression became stern. "Stop it Mom! We're not having this conversation again. You aren't responsible for what happened to Jonathan. You tried to save him, Valentine said he was going to save him." Jocelyn sobbed, "I should have known! He lied about everything! He was ruthless and violent. He hated your brother."

"No!" Clary's voice rose to a shout. "I'm not going to let you blame yourself for what that sick son of a bitch did, or didn't do. He tormented you for years when you were together. I'm not going to let it continue now." It was during these difficult and rare moments, when they discussed Jocelyn's past, that their roles seemed to reverse. Clary became the strong, level-headed adult and when it came to Valentine, her mother was the scared weeping teenager.

Jocelyn's eyes were pleading. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't let it get to me, not after all these years."

"Don't apologize for caring about your son, but you have to understand that it wasn't your fault. I hate it when you beat yourself up like this, Mom!" She tightened her embrace around her mother.

"It's going to be okay Clary, nothing is going to happen to you out here. This house doesn't have a phone, so no numbers can be tracked here. All public contact information for Luke Garroway goes to his house in the city, and the bookstore. We'll be safe, I promise, I'll keep you safe." Her voice faded to a whisper.

"I know you will. Have you called the police."

"We're going to, first thing in the morning."

"All right." Jocelyn smiled warmly and wiped a lingering tear from her cheek, "Get some sleep." She whispered. Clary laid down and her mother pulled the thick blue duvet over her. She hadn't been tucked in since she was ten, but somehow it was reassuring. "Good night Clary, I love you." She leaned down and kissed her daughter on the cheek.

Clary whispered a reply, "Good night, I love you too."

"Sweet dreams." Jocelyn smiled and turned to walk out of the room.

"I'd settle for none." She whispered the words too quietly for her mother to hear. Jocelyn flipped the light switch by the door, and Clary was suddenly surrounded by darkness. She wasn't used to this much dark, the heavy blackness so thick that you couldn't see your hand in front of your face. It never got this dark in her bedroom at home. The streetlights, passing cars and flashing neon signs all illuminated her window. Here, only a tiny faint dot of light filtered through the space between her curtains.

Clary pushed the covers aside and walked softly to her window to see where the light was coming from. She expected to see the faint glow of moon light, but instead she saw the same illuminated window in the Lightwoods house. She didn't know who he was, or what the golden haired boy was doing, but she was strangely comforted by the fact that he was there. She knew he wasn't trying to protect her, but Clary liked to believe that he was somehow watching over her, like a mysterious angel of the night.

As she moved her hands, the curtains fell back into place. She breathed a deep sigh of relief and climbed back into bed. More relaxed now than she had been since they left Brooklyn, she closed her eyes and fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

**A/N**: Maybe we'll meet the angel next chapter… Thanks for reading! Please review!


	3. Tortured Soul

**Forgotten Angels**

_Disclaimer: The Mortal Instruments Trilogy and all affiliated characters belong to Cassandra Clare_

A/N: Thanks for the reviews. The mature content starts here. Hope you enjoy!

**Chapter 2: Tortured Soul**

Clary awoke the next day to her mother's boisterous voice ringing through the small house. At first she thought that Jocelyn was speaking to Luke, but she couldn't be. No one was responding…she was either insane from the stress or on the phone. Clary hoped that it was the second option, but after last night she couldn't be sure. They seemed to be making dinner plans in a tone that her mother only used with gaggling girlfriends.

"I know it's been years." Jocelyn said. "I hate that we lost touch for so long." She sounded very sincere. After a long pause she finished the conversation, "All right six-thirty sounds great. I'll see you tonight."

Clary pushed the thick blue duvet off of her warm body. Her room was glowing with morning sunlight. The décor looked cheerful and bright in the day. Turning around, she placed her feet on the cold hardwood floor and shuddered at the sudden chill. It was startling, but she felt more alert. She walked slowly out of the room, still feeling a little groggy. Her mother was seated at the little round wooden dining table just outside the red kitchen, flipping her cell phone over nervously in her palm. A mug and an empty coffee pot sat on the kitchen counter behind her.

Jocelyn looked up when she heard her enter the room. She smiled, "Good Morning Clary."

But Clary was still too tired to muster a friendly smile. "Morning mom."

"Did you sleep well?"

"Surprisingly, yes."

"Well I'm glad someone did." All the cheerfulness had left her voice.

"Rough night?" Clary said with an understanding expression.

"Yeah, I just couldn't seem to relax. Luke and I were up until nearly six this morning watching _I Love Lucy_ reruns on T.V. Land.

Clary chuckled, "Sounds like a night well spent." It was her mother's favorite old show. But she always hated that the only redhead she could find on television was in black and white. Jocelyn smirked, but the smile didn't touch her eyes. Lack of sleep was compromising her ability to mask her worry. "Did I hear you on the phone earlier?" Clary asked.

"Yes." Her mother replied. "Was I talking too loud? I hope I didn't wake you."

"No it's all right. I woke up on my own."

"Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't let you sleep until nearly noon, but in light of recent events I figured you could use the extra rest."

"Um… Thanks." Clary paused before she remembered what her real question had been. "Who were you talking to?"

"Maryse."

"Who?" Clary asked.

"Maryse Lightwood. You remember, my old friend I told you about last night."

"Yes, I just didn't know her first name."

"I guess I didn't mention it. Anyway, we're going to her house tonight for dinner. I thought that would be a good opportunity for you to meet some people your own age. Who knows you and Isabelle may become best friends."

Clary rolled her eyes, her mother was feeling awfully optimistic. "Mom, I already have a best friend."

"You can have friends other than Simon." Her tone was a little too belligerent for Clary.

"What's wrong with Simon?" She nearly shouted the words.

"Nothing dear, don't be so defensive. It's just that it wouldn't hurt to meet some new people."

Her voice was more whiney than usual. "Actually I have a feeling it's going to be very painful."

Jocelyn sighed, "I just don't want you to be miserable out here. Simon isn't around, and I don't want you to be stuck at home alone all the time. I just don't want your father's cruelty to make you miserable." Clary could feel the pain in her mother's voice and suddenly felt sorry for being so difficult.

She mustered a half smile. "Mom, I'll try my best to get along with Maryse's kids."

Her worried expression momentarily melted away. "Thank you. I'm sure you won't regret it."

Clary's stomach began to rumble, and she turned away from her mother to search through the cupboards. Jocelyn interrupted her, "Luke's gone to get some groceries. There's nothing here." Clary sighed loudly. "I'm sorry." Her mother's words were stern.

Clary stomped out of the red kitchen and into the yellow living room. "This house is like living in a damn rainbow." She muttered angrily under her breath.

"What was that?" Jocelyn called from the kitchen.

"Nothing." She replied in her most innocent voice. Clary found the remote control sitting on an end table beside the wicker couch. She eyed the television cautiously. It looked absolutely ancient and covered in about an inch of dust. She pushed the power button…static. Pushing the channel button, nothing changed. The grating sound of white noise filled her ears.

"T.V. doesn't work." Jocelyn shouted. "There is a picnic table out back, and I've got some paper and drawing pencils, if you want to go outside and sketch."

"All right." Clary replied. When she went back into the kitchen her mother already had the materials laying out on the table.

"Here." She pulled a silver Ipod from her pocket. "Luke brought this in from his truck this morning, must have fallen out of your pocket." Clary took it in her hand and silently cheered. She finally had something to keep her mind occupied. She grabbed the paper and pencils and almost ran for the sliding glass door at the back of the house.

It wasn't until she got outside that she realized she was still in her pajamas. The grass was hot from the summer sun. It felt good between her toes. The picnic table was only a few feet from the house, and it was a Monday afternoon. Everyone was probably at work or school. She wasn't too worried about being spotted.

When Clary put her pencil on the paper she found herself drawing the house next door. Not in the blazing sunlight, but in the shadows of night with one glowing window. She must have been out there longer than she thought because the next sound she heard was the thrumming engine of a passing school bus. Clary knew it was time to go inside, her hunger pangs were almost unbearable, but she needed to add the shadowy figure to the window. The picture wasn't complete without him, whoever he was.

She was wrenched from her deep concentration by the roar of loud engine. A motorcycle rounded the corner at the end of the street and began to turn into the house next door. Feelings of panic and embarrassment swept over her, and she grabbed her sketch and sprinted to the door. Placing her small hands on the handle, she jerked it to the side. It didn't budge. She frantically pounded the glass with her fists. The motorcycle had come to stop, and with one last ferocious snarl the engine died. The rider, a boy dressed in jeans and a leather jacket removed the black helmet releasing a tangled mess of blonde hair. That was him, the shadowy figure in her picture. He turned his head towards her, and she thought she saw him smirk. But she was too far away to be sure.

The door finally slid open, Luke's face was creased with worry, "God Clary, Are you all right?"

She let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. "Yeah, why did you lock the door."

He sighed in relief. "Sorry, I didn't know you were out there." Clary scrambled inside. "You know about dinner tonight?" She nodded and tried to catch her breath. He smirked as he noticed her pajamas. "You gonna wear that?"

She scowled at him, "You're one to talk."

He chuckled "What? I thought flannel was in this season."

She rolled her eyes, "Trailer park chic." She turned away and walked to the kitchen. The cupboards still looked bare, but at least there was some cereal. Clary poured a bowl of apple jacks and opened the fridge. She grimaced, only whole milk. It would have to do. She sat down at the table and stared at her sketch as she ate. It was hard to believe that the boy she envisioned as her protector was the same guy who nearly took out the trashcans on his motorcycle. He didn't look like he cared enough to protect anything, himself included.

Jocelyn entered the kitchen while Clary was finishing her cereal, "You need to start getting ready." Her mother prodded. "Try to wear something nice. The Lightwoods are kind of…" She paused for a long time, and then finally found an appropriately snooty word "regal."

Clary sighed, "Oh God, this is going to be worse than I thought."

"Don't talk like that." Jocelyn was disappointed. "They're our friends."

"I've never met them!" She protested.

"Well that won't be the case after tonight, will it?"

"Oh joy." Clary's tone was mute. She slurped down the thick milk and laid the bowl in the sink, not bothering to rinse it out.

The bathroom was a bright shade of clover green, with cream colored fixtures. The hot water was soothing; she hadn't realized how tense she was. But the honey suckle scented shower gel and the steam seemed to relax every muscle in her body. She relished the few precious moments of tranquility.

Then a thunderous knock disturbed her serenity. "Don't use all the hot water! Luke has to take a shower too."

"I'm almost done." She was too calm to be angry. Clary turned off the hot water and wrapped herself in a oversized fluffy white towel. Walking to her room, she left a trail of wet footprints across the hardwood. Clary rarely took the time to blow dry her hair, but after all the Lightwoods were "regal." She scoffed internally at the word. Who the hell do these people think they are?

In slightly under two hours, Clary was ready for dinner. She never took that long to get ready, but finding something nice to wear in her crazy assortment of garments was no easy task. When Jocelyn finally broke down and picked something out for her, it had to be ironed. In the end, she wore the only dress she owned. It was simple and black with thin straps and a little too short for Clary. Her mother even made her wear jewelry and makeup, two tiny silver hoop earrings and some mascara and lip gloss.

"I feel stupid." Clary said as they walked out the front door.

Excitement radiated in Jocelyn's voice. "You look beautiful. Black is very sophisticated."

She rolled her eyes, "Let's just get this over with." The walk to the Lightwood's house was not long enough for Clary. They were on their doorstep in less than a minute. Luke leaned down and rung the doorbell.

A woman with shoulder length dark hair and ruby red lipstick opened the door, "Hello." She said. "Oh Jocelyn it's been so long and Luke dear, it's so good to see you." She wrapped Jocelyn in a quick friendly embrace then turned to Clary. "And look at you! You must be Clarissa. I'm Maryse. My…You really are the spitting image of your mother." Clary tried to muster a smile. "Well come on in, dinner is almost ready."

They followed Maryse into the Lightwood home, if you could call it that. It looked much more like a museum than a place where people actually lived. Everything seemed old and brand new at the same time. The living room was filled with brown leather furniture, and a crimson Persian rug surrounding a brick fireplace. Then came what Clary dreaded most, awkward introductions.

Maryse took her by the hand, "Clarissa come here, I want to introduce you to my daughter." She guided her into the dining room where a dark haired girl stood over an impossibly long table, trying to lay out the silverware in the proper order. "This is Isabelle."

The girl looked up, and smiled falsely. "Hi." She said as she pushed her long almost black hair out of her face.

Recognizing that Isabelle wasn't going to go out of her way to be kind, Maryse interjected. "Isabelle, this is Clarissa, Jocelyn's daughter." Isabelle just nodded.

"Most people call me Clary."

"Oh." Maryse looked disappointed. "Well Clary it is in then. Why don't you just make yourself at home in living room dear. Alec and Jace will be down in a minute." Clary felt her stomach tie into knots. If the daughter was _that_ friendly then the sons must be just delightful.

When she walked back into the living room, Clary found Luke speaking to a short, dumpy bald man with thick glasses. "Oh Clary, come here." Luke motioned for her with his hand. "This is Robert Lightwood." He reached out his hand for her to take.

She shook it and smiled, "It's nice to meet you Mr. Lightwood."

"Oh call me Robert." He said. Clary smiled at him awkwardly. Then everyone seemed to file into the living room at once. Maryse, Isabelle and a son, although Clary hadn't met him yet. Everyone was chatting noisily around her, nudging her with their elbows, urging her to laugh at jokes she wasn't listening to. It was becoming a little overwhelming. Clary needed a break already.

She moved towards Maryse, "Excuse me, where is your bathroom?"

"Up stairs, second door on the left, dear."

"Thank you." Clary said, and Maryse replied, but she didn't hear it. Clary moved swiftly out of the commotion. She didn't have any trouble finding the bathroom. It was much more tastefully decorated than the one at Luke's house. Her mother would say it lacked personality, but that really just meant it was normal.

Clary stared in the mirror for a long while. She thought her thin pale frame looked strange in the black dress. Then she saw her face, her complexion was terribly red. It looked like her freckles were on fire. She turned on the faucet and splashed cool water on her face.

She looked up, "Shit." The mascara wasn't waterproof. She took a few tissues out of the box next to the sink and tried to clean the black streaks away. They just seemed to smudge deeper and deeper into her skin, making thick dark circles under her eyes.

Suddenly there was a loud bang on the door. Then a very deep voice screamed at her, "Alec! Hurry the fuck up! I need to get in there!" Clary began to tremble, what was she supposed to say. The words wouldn't come. "Alec!" He shouted, and pounded on the door with his fists. Clary noticed the knob twitching, and she remembered that she had forgotten to lock the door. It opened with a crash, as if someone had been pushing against it.

He gasped, "Oh fuck. Sorry." His apology was insincere. "Damn. Why didn't you say anything?" Startled, Clary took a step back. "Fuck, I'm not gonna hurt you." Frustrated, he ran his fingers through his blonde hair. "Do you ever fucking speak?" Anger flared in his eyes. If she hadn't been so scared, Clary probably would have found this funny. This was her protector, the guy that she dreamed watched over her in the night. He was a foul-mouthed asshole. It was a cruel irony.

Finally she mustered a few words, "I'm s-sorry." She hurried past him and out into the hall.

"Why are you fucking apologizing for shit you didn't do?" Clary didn't respond. She just kept walking until she reached the safety of the group. She tried but couldn't get her hands to stop trembling. No one had ever talked to her like that before. She'd never known anyone to be so brash and openly vulgar.

"Dinner's ready!" Maryse announced. "Everyone to the dining room." Clary waited for everyone to sit down. She was glad to see that there were two empty chairs next to her mother, she wouldn't have to worry about elbowing any strangers.

"Jace, get down here." Alec called. Clary gasped and looked around. She forgot he was coming to dinner. Kicking herself for not sitting between Luke and her mother, she realized that the only empty chair was beside her.

She heard heavy footsteps trudging down the stairs. Clary hadn't noticed what he was wearing before but now it was obvious that he was painfully underdressed. All of the other men, Luke included, wore button up collared shirts. Jace however had on a plain black t-shirt with torn jeans, and no shoes.

Maryse spoke as he entered the room, "Jace these are my friends, Jocelyn and Luke." He nodded, it seemed like an agonizingly awkward attempt at friendliness. "And this is Clarissa… Clary." She corrected herself.

He glared at Clary, "We've met." His tone was like ice. She lowered her head, trying not to meet his piercing gaze. He moved lithely across the room and pulled out the chair by her side. It squeaked loudly across the floor.

Maryse carried in a large salad bowl and some tongs. She passed it to Luke. When it came to Clary she scooped out a little pile of lettuce, it looked to be dressed in some sort of vinaigrette. She turned towards Jace, and he reached for the bowl. His fingertips brushed lightly against the back of her hand, and she shuddered. He leaned down and whispered in her ear. "Are you gonna fucking let go of the bowl?"

"Sorry." She said. She hadn't realized how tightly she was clutching it. He scowled and rolled his eyes. The rest of dinner went by in an awkward blur of generic questions and one word answers. Clary tried to keep her head down, and her eyes off the boy next to her.

She came to the conclusion that Jace was an arrogant bastard with a huge chip on his shoulder, and it didn't help that he was stunningly handsome. His messy blonde hair, crystal blue eyes, chiseled features and muscular body were nothing short of a teenage girl's fantasy. But he was the type of guy that you'd never tell anyone you found attractive, because his personality was so dreadfully ugly.

After a cup of coffee and a slice of blueberry pie, dinner was over. Clary was so relieved when Maryse removed the remaining plates from the table. She took that as a signal for them to leave. Unfortunately for Clary, she was wrong.

"Isabelle." Maryse chimed. "Why don't you guys take Clary downstairs and show her the rec. room? Maybe she'd like to play a round of pool?"

Isabelle sighed like her mother had just asked her to saw off her right arm. "Come on Clary." Isabelle motioned for her to get up. Clary didn't want to be rude. So she begrudgingly pushed her chair in and followed Isabelle. She turned her head and noticed Alec and Jace getting up too. Clary hoped that they were going upstairs, but the night just wasn't going her way.

Jace was two steps behind her as they started to descend the stairs. Clary held on to the rails, but it was dark and she slipped in her black heels. "Oh God." She clung desperately to the rail but lost her grip. Just before she hit the ground, she felt a strong cold hand jerk her back up.

"Damn! Can't you even fucking walk?" He released his tight grip on her arm.

"Oh Jace, always the charmer." Alec echoed from the top of the stairs.

"Fuck off Alec." His words were full of venom.

Isabelle finally flicked the light switch at the bottom of the stairs, "God, you're such a dick." Her eyes were wide, glaring at Jace.

The white cinderblock walls made it obvious that it used to be a basement, but there was nothing dank about that room. It was full of retro games, pinball, Pac-man, Tetris and a large pool table. There was a long overstuffed black couch and a bookcase in the corner stacked with board games, magazines and dusty books.

"I'm not listening to your shit either." Jace replied.

Alec interjected. "I'm sorry Clary. You'll just have to ignore Jace. He's having a bad day."

"He has those a lot." Isabelle echoed. They were talking like he wasn't in the room. Jace didn't bother to respond. He contorted his features into a bitter scowl and walked over to the bookcase. He grabbed a thick leather book off the bottom shelf and turned to leave the room. The door slammed at the top of the stairs, and he was gone.

"Did I do something wrong?" Clary asked timidly.

Alec smiled, "Oh no, it's not you. He's like that most of the time."

"Why?" Clary's tone was demanding.

"He's…" Alec hesitated. "He was adopted."

"And that made him so angry and bitter?"

"No not the adoption exactly." Alec said. "He was with the same foster family, well foster dad actually for ten years. And apparently he treated him badly."

Isabelle scoffed, "He was physically and verbally abused."

"Oh." Clary's stomach suddenly tied into knots. She thought about her mother, and how she suffered. But Jace was only a child when it happened to him. No wonder he couldn't cope. "That's sad." Was all she said.

"Yeah he's got daddy issues."

"Isabelle, you're so insensitive." Alec said.

"I don't care." She replied, placing her hands on her hips. "I've had about enough of his attitude. I know his life was bad, but that's no reason to treat everyone else like shit he stepped in."

"Does he go to therapy?" Clary asked, taking a pool cue from the rack.

Alec sighed. "Every Tuesday."

"For the past seven years!" Isabelle added in a frustrated tone. "I honestly don't know how he keeps it up. His whole "I hate the world" routine must be exhausting."

Alec rubbed his temples anxiously, "We've tried everything. At first we thought just being kind to him would be enough, you know showing him that he had a loving family. When that had virtually no effect, mom put him in therapy." He paused to grab a cue. "He's been on about every anti-depressant known to man, but I don't think his problem is chemical.

"What do you think it is?" Clary asked as she lined up her first shot.

"Emotional… deeply emotional. How do you recover from being brainwashed for the first ten years of your life?"

"Brainwashed? What do you mean?"

"His foster dad, was some crazy ex-military guy, who apparently was well-versed in torture techniques."

"Torture!" Clary gasped and her pool cue nearly slipped out of her hands.

Alec continued, "Yeah apparently when he was ten, a teacher noticed bruises all over his arms and legs. The school contacted social services, and removed Jace from the home. Of course, his foster parent was sent to jail for child abuse. My mom was the assistant D.A. at the time, so she heard all about it. She was a friend of Jace's real father, and she felt like it was her responsibility to take him. He moved in with us two weeks after his foster dad was arrested. Our parents adopted him a year later."

"Wow." Clary just stood there trying to process everything Alec had told her. She felt bad for not liking Jace, for being afraid of him.

"It's your shot." Isabelle said.

Clary snapped out of her stupor and bent down to shoot. "Scratch." She sighed.

"Clary!" It was her mother. "We're going home now."

She smiled, "Bye Alec, Bye Isabelle. It was nice meeting you." Isabelle finally said something genuine. "You too Clary, I hope you'll come back."

"Yeah, we'd like that." Alec added. "And sorry about Jace."

Clary's expression turned grave, "Don't worry about it." And with that she turned away and clicked back up the stairs in her black heels.

Jocelyn was waiting for her. She thanked Maryse and Robert for a nice evening, and followed her mother and Luke out the door.

As they walked through the grass back to the little brick house next door, Clary was itching with questions about Jace. "Mom?" she said.

"Yes?"

"What do you know about Jace?"

Her expression suddenly became stern. "Clarissa, listen to me. Stay away from that boy! He's nothing but trouble."

**A/N: **Well it wasn't a pretty first meeting, but we've just scratched the surface. Thanks for reading! Please review!


	4. A Black Kind of Day

**Forgotten Angels**

_Disclaimer: The Mortal Instruments Trilogy and all affiliated characters belong to Cassandra Clare_

A/N: Sorry it's taking so long to update. They'll come faster when I finish my other story. Hope you enjoy!

**Chapter 3: A Black Kind of Day**

Clary was lying on her stomach, feet dangling off the end of her bed with two white ear buds resting on her shoulders, blasting _Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds_. The Beatles were good artistic inspiration. Simon called it a secondhand acid trip.

She sketched frantically, angular features, choppy pieces of messy blonde hair… eyes filled with hatred. She tried desperately to figure out why she found him so fascinating, but there was no logical reason. He certainly wasn't charming or smooth. Judging by his vocabulary, he wasn't exceptionally intelligent. But still, Clary felt a strange connection to him. A deep empathy, that looked beyond his foul language and bad attitude. By understanding her mother's pain, she was able to see past the facade and into his soul. But that was something she couldn't seem to capture on paper, at least for now Jace's humanity escaped her pencil.

A knock at the door startled her out of her thoughts. "Clary?" It was her mother. Jocelyn peeked her head in through the crack of the door. Clary quickly covered her sketch. "I just wanted to tell you not to stay up too late."

"I was just going to sketch for a little while and call Simon."

"All right but you have school tomorrow, and I don't think it would be a good idea to call Simon."

Clary gasped. "What? School already? And what's wrong with calling Simon." Her tone was insolent.

"Clary you know you need to get back to school as soon as possible, and we can't tell anyone in the city where we are. Not even Simon!"

"Mom, he's my best friend. I can't just not tell him why we mysteriously fled the city in the middle of the night."

"No Clary, he doesn't need to know about any of this." Jocelyn was unwavering.

"But Mom, he'll worry about me!" Clary pleaded with her.

"It's better for him to worry now than for Valentine to find that he has useful information later. Trust me Clary, you father is not a kind man. He won't hesitate to hurt Simon."

Clary began to sob, "What if he breaks into the house? There are pictures of Simon in my room."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you. I just need you to know how serious this is. The less Simon knows, the better." Jocelyn moved from her spot in the doorframe and wrapped her arms around her tearful daughter. "It'll be all right. Once you start going to school, get in a routine. It seemed like you made some friends this evening."

Clary nodded. She had made some friends. She liked Alec, and Isabelle had her moments but she was tolerable. But still the thought of a new school made her physically ill, the new people, the stares, the whispers. It wouldn't be like it was in the city, where she could just melt into the crowd. This was…was… it wasn't until that second that Clary realized that she didn't even really know where she was. They had moved in such a haste, and the day had been such a hazy blur that she forgot to ask the name of the town.

"Mom?" Clary asked thoughtfully, drying up the last of her sobs. "Where are we?"

Jocelyn chuckled, "I thought you remembered, but I guess not. It's called Idris, population almost one-thousand."

Clary rolled her eyes and sighed, "It's worse than I thought."

"Don't worry, you'll get used to small town life." Clary wanted to tell her that it wasn't small town life she was having trouble adjusting to. It was the fact that a psychopathic madman wanted to kill her and her mother! That wasn't something you could just live with.

"Are you sure I have to go to school tomorrow?" Clary sighed.

Jocelyn smiled, "Yes, it'll be good for you to get out of the house."

"Fine." The word was filled with venom.

Her mother chuckled, "Don't be a drama queen. Good night! I love you."

"Night mom, love you too." Jocelyn planted a kiss on Clary's forehead, and she turned to walk out of the blue room. She gently closed the door behind her.

Clary pulled out her sketch of Jace, but decided it wasn't any good. She balled it up in her hands and threw it in the wastebasket across the room. Pushing her cell phone aside, she decided to listen to her mother and leave Simon out of this. He didn't need to be part of this mess. This was her problem.

Sleep did not come easy. Clary didn't know if it was from the stress of being on someone's hit list, the anxiety of starting a new school, sleeping half the day, or the realization that her protector was a troubled teen with a bad attitude. Regardless of the reason, she tossed and turned endlessly, tangling her pajamas around her legs and kicking the blue duvet to the floor. The last time she remembered seeing on her phone was three a.m.

Clary woke to a soft knock on the door. "It's 6:30, time to get a move on." Jocelyn's voice was weary. Clary balled her hands into weak fists and tried to rub the sleep from her eyes, but she yawned heavily and her head fell back to he pillow. After a few minutes, the door flew open and light poured in. Jocelyn walked to the window and opened the blinds, washing the room in dawn sunlight. Jocelyn's messy red hair sparkled in the rays. "Come on Clary, time to wake up." Her eyes scanned the room, and she noticed the blanket on the floor. "Gosh, what did you do to your bed?"

"Restless night." Clary grunted.

"There's coffee on the table if you're interested." Jocelyn added as she walked out of the room. Clary finally managed to pick her head up off the bed and walk across the icy hardwood to the kitchen. She sat at the table with Luke, and poured a steaming cup of coffee. She inhaled the familiar aroma.

"Milk? Sugar?" He offered.

Clary shook her head, "Straight up today." After she finished her coffee, she marched with heavy feet to the shower. The water was relaxing, too relaxing. It was all she could do to keep her head up.

Clary didn't bother to dry her hair, or put on makeup. She just found a pair of dark jeans, and a black t-shirt. She liked to wear clothes that reflected her mood; it was definitely a black kind of day.

"Clary, are you ready?" Jocelyn called.

"Yeah Mom." She walked slowly out of her room, sneakers dragging the floor.

"Oh Clary." Luke called from the bedroom. "I got you some things for today." He handed her two spiral notebooks and some pencils.

"Thanks." She smiled and took the school supplies from his hands.

"Let's go!" Jocelyn shouted from the other end of the house. Clary hurried to the living room and out the front door. Her mother led her to the garage and into Luke's old truck.

Clary held her arms close to her body, clutching the notebooks, trying not to tremble. The truck came to a quick stop outside a busy building. The rumbling engine died leaving them in silence. Clary was suddenly too scared to speak. After a long pause, "Idris High." Jocelyn murmured. It wasn't much to look at, just three large red brick structures. "Come on Clary, I'm sure they'll be a lot of paperwork for you and I to fill out." Clary forced herself to slide away from the warm vinyl seat. The ominous sound of the closing truck door rang in her ear.

Jocelyn lead the way through two large glass doors. The noise inside was deafening, a cacophony of yelling kids, ringing cell phones and closing lockers. She tapped her mother on the shoulder and pointed to a door marked _Administrative and Guidance Offices_. They walked in and saw a plump blonde receptionist with short hair sitting at a large wooden desk chatting on the phone. The school was obviously old; the blue carpet was probably from the 1970's. She greeted them with a smile; her red nails tapping on the table.

She finally hung up. "Good morning. How can I help you?" Her red lipstick was smeared onto her chin.

Jocelyn faked a smile. "I would like to register my daughter for school."

"Oh great, welcome to Idris hon." She opened a file cabinet and pulled out a stack of forms "Now if you'll fill these out." She handed the papers to Jocelyn. "And if you'll go to the office right through that door. The guidance counselor will pull up your transcripts and make your schedule." She pointed at a door behind the desk. As she started walking, the receptionist pushed a button on her phone and murmured "Imogen, I'm sending a new student in to see you."

Clary knocked on the office door, "Come right in." A voice echoed from the other side. The door creaked loudly. The lady behind the desk had long blonde, nearly white, hair. She wore a gray business suit and only the slightest hint of makeup. "Have a seat dear. I'm Mrs. Herondale." She reached her hand out to shake Clary's.

Clary mustered a smile, "I'm Clarissa Fairchild."

The morning passed excruciatingly slow. Jocelyn's hand throbbed from filling out all the forms. It took an hour and a half for Clary to get an acceptable schedule. She was taking English, world history, geometry, art and gym. She wasn't too excited about the last one, but it was mandatory, and at least she had art to look forward to.

"All right Clarissa, you've already missed your first two classes, but I'll show you to your third period." said Mrs. Herondale. Great. Clary thought. She couldn't dodge geometry on her first day. The guidance counselor lead her out of her office and back to where her mother was sitting.

"Clary." Jocelyn said. She pulled her daughter down and whispered in her ear. "Don't write your real name on anything. Here, you are Clary Fray. All right? F, R, A, Y. Be careful please. Only the principal, Mr. Starkweather, and the guidance counselor know your real name." Clary nodded. "Have a good day sweetheart. Luke or I will be by to pick you up in a few hours."

After a quick tour of the building, Clary had a faint idea of where all of her classes were. English and social studies courses were all the north building with the offices and cafeteria. Science, math and electives were all in the east building. The gym was the west building. Mrs. Herondale lead the way to a wooden door at the end of the long hall lined with blue lockers in east building. "Here you are, _Clary_." She winked. "Here's your schedule, it has all the room numbers on it. Show it to your teachers if they have any questions."

"Yes m'am." Clary said as she took the paper from the counselor's hand. She took a deep breath and opened the door. Scanning the room, dread settled over her as she realized she didn't recognize a single face. There was no Isabelle, no Alec, not even Jace.

The teacher cleared his throat. "Can I help you?"

She gulped, and handed him her schedule. "This is my first day here. I'm Clary Fai-Fray! Clary Fray."

"Welcome Clary Fray. I'm Mr. Blackburn. I take it you were in geometry in your old school?"

"Yes sir, back in New York."

"Oh a city girl are you? Well I hope you like Idris. We're working on angle constructions today. Are you familiar with that?" He was trying very hard to make her feel comfortable.

Clary breathed a sigh of relief. Her old class finished that unit last week. "Yes, we just finished that last week."

"Great, so you won't need any catching up. I may even ask you to help some of the other students." Clary's eyes widened in horror. She understood the material, but not well enough to teach it to someone else. "There's a seat open in the back."

She turned from her teacher, and walked to the empty desk in the back. She felt twenty sets of eyes following her every move, staring at her with anxious curiosity.

"Class." Mr. Blackburn said. "This is our new student, from New York City. This is her first day here at Idris, so let's all do our best to make her feel welcome. Her name is Clary Fray." Clary felt her face blush tomato red as her new classmates scrutinized her every feature like a zoo animal. She mustered a half smile and turned her face away from the crowd. After the embarrassing introduction, Mr. Blackburn didn't pay her anymore special attention. He just stood at the blackboard with a ruler and compass, blathering on about angles and degrees. Clary was too preoccupied to listen, too worried, too nervous.

A loud bell rang, shaking Clary from her thoughts. "Have a good lunch." Mr. Blackburn said.

"Oh crap." Clary sighed. She wasn't looking forward to lunch. Her stomach was tied into too many knots to eat. She picked up her notebooks, and looked at the paper Mrs. Herondale had given her. Her locker was down the hall. She struggled against the herd, and finally found the blue locker with her number on it.

After fighting with the lock for nearly five minutes, a familiar voice rang in her ears. "Let me help with that." A swath of long black hair brushed against her shoulder, and the smell of cotton candy perfume filled her nostrils. "How's your first day going?" Isabelle asked.

"It's all right." Clary sighed.

"That bad huh?" Isabelle giggled. "Come on put your books in there, you can sit with us at lunch." Clary turned around and finally got a good look at Isabelle. She did not look like she was dressed for class at Idris High. She wore a short black skirt, pink tube top and spiky black heels. She could have easily fit in any New York night club, but here…she stood out.

Isabelle led the way to the cafeteria. Clary thought she was going to be having lunch with Alec and Jace, but Isabelle stopped at a table with two girls. "This is Maia." She pointed to a dark haired girl with perfect mocha skin. "And Aline," a thin Asian girl with a short black bob, who dressed a lot like Isabelle. "This is my new friend, Clary. She moved in next door." Clary grinned at the word friend, and the two girls mustered fake smiles in her direction. She sat down at the round table between Isabelle and Maia.

"Where's Alec?" Clary asked.

"He's sitting in the senior section, with Jace." Isabelle replied. "Jace isn't a senior, but no one is brave enough to ask him to move, and he won't sit with anyone but Alec." She paused. "Why do you ask?"

Clary blushed, "I don't know. It would just be nice to see another familiar face."

"Clary." She leaned down as if to whisper into her ear. "If you have a crush on Alec um…" She hesitated. "I think you're barking up the wrong tree if you know what I mean." She grimaced as if she had divulged some very confidential information. "Please don't tell anyone I told you that."

Clary gasped not at what Isabelle was insinuating about Alec, but that Isabelle thought she liked him… that way. "No no, I just think of him as a friend, and secret's safe with me." She motioned as if she was zipping her lips.

"I'm going to get some food." Isabelle said. The other two girls were already digging into salad and baked potatoes. "Clary, would you like something?" She nodded, she wasn't hungry, but she didn't want to face the awkward silences that would undoubtedly arise if she stayed there alone with Aline and Maia.

Clary grabbed a carton juice, then turned at the sound of a familiar voice, "Clary!" Alec called. She looked over the crowded lunch line and saw a dark spiky head of hair moving towards her. Alec stepped out from behind the mob. "Hey, how's the first day?"

"Only slightly torturous." Clary grinned. Alec walked past her and grabbed a carton of orange juice and an apple. "Feeling fruity today?" She giggled. Isabelle shot a piercing glance in her direction. She smacked her forehead, embarrassed at the suggestive nature of her stupid comment, but Alec didn't seem to notice. She paid for her juice and started to follow Isabelle back to the table.

"Talk to you later." Alec called. Clary smiled and waved, as she followed Alec's movement with her eyes all the way to the other side of the cafeteria. He sat down in a booth across from a boy with messy golden hair. Clary suddenly felt excited when her eyes fell upon Jace's lanky frame, but she couldn't explain why.

"Hello!" Isabelle called. "Are you coming?"

"Sorry, I was… looking at something." Clary replied. When they reached the table she pulled out her chair and sipped slowly on her juice with her head down.

"So," Maia said. "Where are you from Clary?"

"New York."

Her eyes lit up. Clary wouldn't have expected Maia to be part of Isabelle's group. She was wearing jeans, and a t-shirt and no makeup. She was kind, and Clary felt comfortable around her. "Wow! What's it like living there?"

"It's great, lots of people, lots of things to do."

"I've always wanted to live there." Maia replied

"Well I don't see what the big deal is." Aline interjected. "Just because she's from New York doesn't mean she's anything special." She scowled sourly at Clary.

"Easy Al." Maia said. "It's Clary's first day, save the jealous bitch routine for tomorrow." She chuckled, her tone completely free of malice. Clary half expected Aline to jump to across the table and choke Maia, but she just scowled bitterly.

"Do you have a boyfriend back in the city?" Isabelle asked, a devilish smile dancing on her lips.

Clary frowned. "My best friend is a guy, but no I don't have a boyfriend."

"Too bad." Aline said, as she tucked a short lock of dark hair behind her ear. "Choices are rather limited around here."

Maia giggled, "Yeah between you and Izzy, you've been through about every decent guy in school."

"And most of the indecent ones." Isabelle joked. "Can we help it if they like us, and we're easily bored?"

Maia rolled her eyes. "Hey now that's not always true. I seem to remember one guy who very politely rejected Al."

Aline snorted. "Yeah so polite."

"Well Aline, I still blame that one on you." Isabelle giggled. "You should know better than try to hit on Jace, and he didn't completely reject you. He gave you a choice."

Clary's interest was peaked. "What kind of choice?" Aline stroked her chin as if thinking, "I believe he said, fuck or leave."

Maia burst out laughing, "I'm surprised you didn't take him up on the first option.

"Oh come on Maia," Isabelle said. "Al is classier than that. She needs dinner first… McDonalds…Burger King." Aline glowered at her. Their conversation was interrupted by the blare of the bell. "Where are you headed Clary?"

"Art." She replied.

Isabelle's eyes widened, "Oh." She hesitated. "See you later then."

"Bye." Clary said as she turned away from Isabelle. It took nearly five minutes for Clary to open her locker again, she was almost late for art. When she walked into the classroom, the scent of paint and clay filled her nose. It was a familiar and comforting smell. The white walls were covered in decorative paint splatters and color wheels. There were no desks just large black tables with two chairs.

"Excuse me." An adult voice sounded behind her, and Clary turned around to see a plump woman with gray hair and glasses. She wore a fuzzy purple scarf and a yellow dress.

"Hi." She faked a smile. "This is my first day. My name is Clary Fray."

"Welcome to Idris dear. I'm Mrs. Meriwether. Well we only have one seat left. So I guess your lucky." Clary looked around but couldn't find the open chair.

"Where is it?" She asked.

"In the back corner, beside Jace Lightwood." Clary's heart jumped into her throat. Excitement, fright and apprehension washed over her. "Go on dear, take your seat." She forced her feet to move.

When she reached her chair, she laid her notebook down and tried not to look at Jace. He was bent over putting books in his black backpack. Clary caught a glimpse of one of the spines, _Advanced Physics_. Maybe he was smarter than she thought.He immediately looked up. She could feel him staring, burning holes into her with his menacing glare. When she sat down, she turned her body completely away, putting as much space between them as possible.

"Class, we have a new student today." Clary felt herself start to blush as Mrs. Meriwether spoke. "Clary Fray, would you stand up please?" Oh God, Clary thought, she wasn't going to make this easy. She stood up and waved sheepishly. The entire class proceeded to look her over _again_. "I expect you all to introduce yourself, and make her feel welcome."

"All right now, let's get to today's assignment. You've been working on drawing human facial features. Today you're going to continue that, by drawing your partner's face." Clary's heart sank. She couldn't ignore him, and he couldn't ignore her. "You have the entire period to complete this assignment. So take your time, and do your best. Select one of your partners to come to the front and get materials." Clary immediately jumped out of her seat.

When she returned with the paper and drawing pencils, Jace was staring at the table. "Here." She whispered and laid a sheet of paper in front of him.

"Why didn't you fucking tell her she got your name wrong?" He murmured the words under his breath and scowled.

"She didn't get it wrong." Clary's eyes were pleading wishing they could return to the tense silence.

"Damn it, that's not your last name." His tone began to rise. People were starting to stare.

She moved closer to him, inches from his face. "Shut the fuck up Jace. It's none of your damn business." Her voice was quiet but full of stern urgency.

His eye grew wide, and he did the strangest thing, the last thing Clary expected. The tiniest hint of a half smile struggled desperately to escape his tight jaw. He obviously wanted to hold it back, but Clary saw it. He couldn't hide the lightness in his eyes, the snapshot of the gentle soul trapped within. But it was gone in a flash, replaced by his usual angry glower.

He didn't mention her last name again. "Are you going to fucking turn around. I can't even seen your face." He spat the words with venom, but for some odd reason Clary took comfort in the fact that he didn't use an expletive when talking about her face.

She slowly turned her head, still a curtain of red hair blocking his view. She thought he'd ask her to push it aside, but instead she sensed his hand moving towards her. His fingers brushed the side of her cheek as he gently tucked her hair behind her ear. Her breath hitched, and she blushed a fiery red. There was an unexplainable electricity in his touch.

When Clary went to put the pencil on the paper, she noticed her hand shaking. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself so she could draw. After a few minutes, she finally worked up the courage to turn to Jace. His head was down, sketching furiously. She scanned his angular features, deep blue eyes, thin crimson lips, straight choppy pieces of messy blonde hair and the wiry muscles in his neck that ran underneath his black t-shirt. Only one word ran through Clary's mind…Beautiful. He looked up, their eyes met and Clary fought the sheepish smile that played on her lips. His grimace was gone, instead he looked at her with the scrutinizing eyes of an artist. She was the first to look away.

The bell rang loudly, breaking Clary out of her intense concentration as if waking her from a dream. She stared at her picture of Jace. It wasn't even close to capturing what she saw in his eyes when she cursed at him, but it wasn't bad. "All right class, leave your drawings on my desk as you leave. Have a good afternoon."

Clary walked to Mrs. Meriwether's desk and laid her drawing down. The teacher's eyes lit up. "Wow Clary, you're very talented." Jace laid his down right on top. Clary was shocked, it was almost a perfect likeness. Except she thought he drew her too pretty. The girl in his drawing looked like someone from a magazine, not a plain Jane. "And Jace." The old lady said his name with an apprehensive reverence. "Exceptional, as usual."

**A/N: **Maybe he isn't so bad after all. Thanks for reading. Please review!


	5. Blood Stains

**Forgotten Angels**

_Disclaimer: The Mortal Instruments Trilogy and all affiliated characters belong to Cassandra Clare_

A/N: This chapter is a little bit gory. Thanks for the reviews! I hope you enjoy!

**Chapter 4: Blood Stains**

The rest of Clary's school day passed uneventfully. She spent her entire P.E. class chatting with Isabelle on the bleachers surrounding the football field. It was a warm day, and Clary basked in the rays as they heated her freckled cheeks. Isabelle droned for an hour about the boys running on the field below. Practically none of them wore shirts, except for Jace. He sported his usual black t-shirt. Clary felt a twinge of disappointment when she saw him running…fully clothed. It was painfully obvious that most of the boys were trying to show off. They ran as fast they could, strained so their thin muscles bulged and yelled loudly to attract attention to themselves. She couldn't help but laugh. Is this how cave people used to chose a mate?

Clary wasn't impressed. Her mind could only seem to focus on one guy. In fact, she found it hard to think of anything other than Jace Lightwood. He was such a mystery. Rude and bitter, but with a gentle touch and an artist's hand. Foul mouthed and hateful, but apparently very intelligent. Now she could add another layer to the puzzle. He was one of the most handsome guys in school, but strangely modest She couldn't hardly wrap her mind around someone like Jace. Kids raised in abusive homes usually didn't turn out like him. At least not like the Jace that he hid, the smart, artistic, gentle Jace. She attributed his oxymoronic personality to the two very different homes in which he was raised. One was loving the other barbaric, and he was an enigma.

Luke was waiting when Clary pushed her way out of the front doors of the school. The red truck sat in the parking lot, idling in the sun. She practically ran to the door, but when she climbed in the heat was stifling. He really needed to invest in some air conditioning. Luke had both windows rolled down, but it didn't seem to help.

Sweat beads rolled off his forehead. "Hey Clary." He smiled. "How was the first day?"

She sighed. "All right I guess. Not quite as bad as poking my eyes out with dull pencils, but close."

Luke chuckled, as he pushed his glasses back up his nose. "Not feeling melodramatic this afternoon, are we dear?"

"Who me?" She flashed a wry smile. "Never."

Luke shifted into reverse and slowly backed out trying to dodge the herd of students. They drove in silence most of the way. Luke knew Clary was down, so he left her to her thoughts. These last few days had been traumatic, and there was no way to sugarcoat it. She had a habit of blowing things out of proportion, but this time things _were_ that bad.

After a few minutes, they pulled into the driveway of the little brick house and Clary breathed a sigh of relief. She had made it through the first day with most of her dignity intact. The whispers and stares would die down soon. Sliding off the sticky vinyl, she closed the door and ran for the air conditioned house.

She breathed in the cold air and heard her mother call from the kitchen. "Clary." Jocelyn shouted.

"Hey mom." She said as she turned the corner, seeing her mother seated at the table, newspaper spread out in front of her.

"How was school?" Jocelyn asked, an eager smile on her face.

Clary could tell her mother really wanted her to like Idris. So she faked a smile. "It was fine, Mom."

"Just fine?" Jocelyn's grin faded.

"It was good, Mom." Clary tried to sound as sincere as possible.

"I'm so glad." Jocelyn gushed. "Did you make any new friends?"

"Sorta." Clary stumbled over the words. "Isabelle introduced me to a few of her friends, Maia and Aline."

"Aw Clary, that's great." Her mother got up from her chair and wrapped her in a warm embrace. "I knew you'd make the best of this." Tears started to swell in Clary's eyes, but she pushed them back. She had to be strong for Jocelyn.

"I think I'm going to go outside and sketch." She said.

Her mother gave a concerned look. "You need to do your homework first."

"No homework tonight. It's getting close to the end of the year. Things are winding down."

Her mother nodded, "Have fun."

Clary walked to her blue room and stripped off her jeans and black t-shirt. She thought she might die if she had to spend another hour in the sun in those hot clothes. She traded them in for a mismatched pair of blue shorts and a red tank top. She took one look in the mirror and thought…superman. If only she had the tights and underwear. Grabbing some paper and her drawing pencils, she turned and walked out the door.

It seemed to have cooled down a little outside. There was a nice breeze in the backyard, but the splintered wood of the picnic table was uncomfortable against her bare thighs. She laid down a sheet of paper, and started to sketch. First, she tried something neutral, a tree, a full weeping willow with long flowing branches. It didn't turn out right; that wasn't what she really wanted to draw.

She gave into her impulse and started again on the choppy blonde hair. Her hand was now familiar with the angles of his face, and the curve of his lips. Her only problem came when she tried to draw his eyes. The expression they held was one of rage and fury…again. Clary hated it. She wanted desperately to draw the Jace behind the hard mask. But wasn't that the bane of every artist's existence, trying to capture the soul?

A voice rattled her from her intense concentration. "Clary." He called from a distance. Confused, she looked around. It wasn't coming from her house. She turned and saw Alec and Isabelle standing in their driveway. Alec gripped an orange basketball in his hands. Isabelle was leaning lazily against the red portable hoop, Clary hadn't noticed it before. "You wanna play?" Alec yelled.

Clary stood up and giggled. "I'm not too good." She shouted across the yard.

"It's all right, Izzy's terrible." Alec took an elbow to the ribs. He scowled at his sister. "We're just playing horse." He motioned with his hand for her to come over.

"All right." She gave in. Turning her drawing over, she laid her pencils on top so it wouldn't blow away. She walked over to the open kitchen window and called inside. "Mom."

"Yeah Clary, is everything all right?" Jocelyn's voice was shaky. It had been ever since they left New York.

"Fine, I'm just going over to the Lightwoods for a little while. I didn't want you to worry."

"Oh." Her tone immediately lightened. "Have fun." She replied cheerfully. Clary turned from the house and closed the short distance between the two yards.

"Nice outfit." Isabelle chuckled. Clary was shocked to see that she was in regular clothes too, a pair of short denim cutoffs and a white tank top. But she figured not even Isabelle played basketball in skirts and heels.

"You take first shot." Alec bounced the ball in her direction. She was relieved when she actually caught the ball. Clary dribbled clumsily across the black asphalt and took a shot right in front of the basket.

"Air ball." Isabelle laughed. "My turn." She said as she picked up the ball, and walked back to the free throw line. It hit the front rim with a clank and bounced off.

"Brick." Alec chuckled. "Don't let her talk trash Clary, she's not any better than you."

"At least I hit something." Isabelle protested.

"Only cause we've been out here shooting for a while. That was Clary's first shot. No warm up time." He smirked at his sister, and she rolled her eyes.

"Well let's see it, hot shot." She mocked Alec. He dribbled the ball out to where Clary would have imagined the three point line to be. He let go, and the ball bounced off the back rim. Isabelle snorted. "That's what I thought."

A loud noise rumbled in the distance. Alec put a hand on Clary's shoulder, and lightly pulled her backwards. "Get out of way." He said. He and Isabelle walked all the way into the grass. The rumble grew louder. A motorcycle zoomed around the corner and up the driveway, right in front of them. Clary gasped, he looked like he was going to crash into the house. He slammed his breaks at the last second and skidded to a screeching halt inches from the garage.

Clary let out a breath she didn't know she was holding in. Jace slid his black helmet off his head. Pieces of blonde hair fell messily in his face. He turned to look at them. His eyes widened when he saw Clary. His breath hitched, and it was hard for him to speak. But Clary couldn't tell that he was a nervous as she was.

"Hey." Alec said. Jace nodded in his direction. "You wanna play? We can go two on two." Clary expected Jace to say no. He didn't seem like a basketball in the driveway kind of guy.

But as usual, he was full of surprises. He shrugged his shoulders. "I guess." He spoke as if he were bored and didn't care.

"You and Izzy." Alec pointed to both of them. "Versus me and Clary." Jace rolled his eyes.

"Don't look so excited." Isabelle replied sarcastically. Jace didn't respond.

"Check it at the top." Alec said. He threw the ball to Jace and he bounced it back. Alec took off. Isabelle tried to guard Clary, but it was obvious that this game was one on one. He drove hard to the basket, but Jace blocked the shot. Alec cursed under his breath.

Jace took the ball back out away from the goal. Isabelle jumped up and down. "I'm open. I'm open." She exclaimed. Clary didn't bother to guard her. Jace didn't bat an eye at his jumping sister. He bounced the ball skillfully between his legs, then did a spin move and whipped right past Alec. He easily laid the ball into the basket.

"One, zip." Jace said, still no excitement in his voice. He checked the ball with Alec again. He took a few dribbles, ran straight at him and did a cross over. Alec nearly lost his footing and tripped, but he caught back up with Jace. He shot the lay-up over Alec, but the ball bounced hard off the back rim.

Eager to get in on the action, Isabelle and Clary both raced for the rebound. All four of them jumped up at the same time, struggling for the ball. Jace grabbed it out of the air. He landed on the asphalt with a thump, his legs tangled in Alec's. He stumbled and started to fall. Clary stood close behind him. He reached for Alec's shoulder but he was moving too fast. He couldn't steady himself. Jace fell back hard against Clary, their heads banging together and the ball slipped out of his hands. She lost her footing and fell too the ground, Jace landed on top of her as her head struck the asphalt with a violent thud. His entire weight came down on her left arm. A loud crack sounded in her ears. Her head throbbed, the sunlight slowly began to fade Everything went dark.

"Fuck!" Jace screamed. "Clary!" He scrambled to get off of her. Her eyes were closed, she didn't respond.

"Oh my God, Clary!" Isabelle shouted. "What did you do?"

"I-I didn't mean to." Jace struggled to find the words, all his harshness gone. He was frantic as he screamed her name. "Clary!" He bent down beside her, almost ready to sob.

"Calm down." Alec was the voice of reason. "It's her arm, and she's hit her head." He tried not to look at body in the driveway. Clary's arm was bent unnaturally half way up her forearm, an inch of bone protruding from the skin. A pool of dark blood began to gather on the asphalt by her head. It stained her hair that glistened in the late afternoon sunlight. "Isabelle, go inside call 911. Jace go get her mother." Isabelle turned around immediately, and sprinted for the door.

Jace shook his head furiously, unwilling to move. "I'm not leaving her."

Alec shot him a confused glance. He'd never seen Jace act like this before, never seen him care about anyone or anything, not even himself. But the look on his face was one of sheer terror. "Fine, I'll go get Jocelyn. Keep talking to her." Alec took off towards Clary's house.

Jace took Clary's right hand in his, squeezing it in his palm. "Clary!" He screamed frantically. "Wake up! Please Clary. I'm fucking begging you." He fought the lump forming in the back of his throat. He put his hand on her chest. He sighed with relief when he felt the heave of her breath.

Clary stirred, her eyes opening halfway. She groaned in agony. Her left arm was completely numb, but her head pounded with every beat of her heart. Her vision was bleary, she couldn't tell who standing over her. One hand on her chest, the other squeezing her fingers tightly.

"Alec?" She whispered the words, her voice cracking in pain. She wanted desperately to see how bad she was hurt. She lifted her head and felt something wet seep through her hair and onto her scalp.

"No." He screamed, but he wasn't angry. His voice shook in fear. "Don't look." Clary was startled. The voice didn't belong to Alec. "It'll be all right." He said, running his fingertips up her arm, trying to soothe her. She was in pain, but her heart skipped a beat.

Isabelle ran back outside, black cordless phone in hand. "Is she awake?" She shouted.

"Yeah she's disoriented, but she's talking." Jace said. Isabelle repeated the words frantically into the phone.

"They say we can bring her in." Isabelle said. "We just have to be careful with her arm."

"Well no shit!" Jace screamed. "It's in two fucking pieces!" Clary groaned. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He pleaded as he ran his fingers nervously through his hair.

Isabelle murmured something inaudible into the phone and hung up. She looked strangely at Jace. She felt a twinge of jealousy as she observed the gruesome scene. She couldn't help but think that if it was her lying there, Jace wouldn't be acting this way. "Copping a feel?" Her words were filled with venom.

He looked down at his hand on her heaving chest, and quickly pulled it away. His voice became stern again. "I was just making sure she was breathing."

"I think she'll make it." Isabelle replied sarcastically.

"Oh my God Clary!" She heard her mother's voice, frantic in the distance. The yelling got louder, as her footsteps approached. "What happened? Are you all right?" She gasped for breath. "Your head! God, Clary you're bleeding! And you arm! Jesus Clary, speak to me!" She pushed Jace out of the way and grabbed her daughter's hand. Clary moaned and shifted. "No, be still. Just talk to me."

"Mom." The words were just a whisper.

"Yes dear."

"I'll be okay." The words stumbled from her trembling lips. Jace gazed at her in bewilderment. He couldn't believe how brave she was being. She was obviously in agony, but she didn't want her mother to worry.

"Go get the car." Isabelle yelled to Alec. He immediately took off into the garage. Seconds later the large door started to creep upward. Alec backed a black Mercedes sedan out into the driveway. Without hesitation, Jace scooped Clary into his arms and started walking towards the car. Isabelle opened the door, and he slid into the backseat.

Jocelyn observed the scene with wary eyes, but she was too worried to ask questions. She slid into the front seat, and Alec took off. Clary's breathing was heavy and labored. Jace held her broken arm steady. She writhed in pain every time the car hit a bump. She stared up into his eyes, her heart racing, half from the pain and half from the sensation of being in his arms. He didn't meet her gaze. He worked frantically trying to keep her comfortable, not paying any attention to the blood that melted into his black shirt, or the red drips that stained the white leather interior of the Lightwood's Mercedes. They weren't going to be happy about that.

Clary didn't want to concentrate on the pain. So she focused on his eyes, trying desperately to remember that expression so she could put it on paper later. He wasn't happy, far from happy. His features were wracked with anxious worry, but that was an improvement over bitter hate. Worry meant he cared. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach at the thought. It really wasn't good timing. She felt ridiculous for having those feelings when all she should be thinking about was her mangled arm, but they were wonderful feelings and impossible to suppress.

"Are you supporting her arm?" Jocelyn called from the front seat. Her features were knotted in a worried grimace.

"Yes." Jace replied in a breathy whisper.

"What the hell happened out there?" Her voice was pleading, desperately seeking answers. Jace looked as if he were about to cry. He tried to speak but the words wouldn't come.

Alec tried to explain. "We were playing basketball. All four of us went up for a rebound. Our feet got tangled together, and Clary got knocked down."

"I fucking fell on her." Jace interjected. "I'm so sorry Clary." His voice began to crack.

"It was an accident." Clary whispered hoarsely. He lowered his head, but didn't respond.

Alec saw him in the rearview mirror. "Don't be like that Jace. We were all there. Nobody meant for anyone to get hurt."

"I know." He cried. "But I shouldn't have been so fucking careless. There were girls out there."

Jocelyn scoffed. "You're damn right. Now look what you've done, you foul-mouthed delinquent." Her words were full of venom.

"Mom!" Clary's voice was just a murmur, but it was as loud as she could speak.

"Don't defend him Clary. He doesn't deserve it. Look what he's done to you." Her worry fading, Jocelyn was seething with anger.

"That's quite enough!" Alec interrupted, as he pulled the car to a stop. He looked Jocelyn right in the eye. "I know you're angry." He spoke calmly to her mother. "But that's not helping anything." She nodded in agreement, but shot Jace a menacing glance.

Alec killed the engine. Clary could make out a large red sign out the window…_Emergency Room._ Alec opened the door, and Jace carefully slid out of the seat, still clutching her in his arms.

"She can probably walk." Alec said, trying to be helpful.

"I've got her!" Jace replied in a unyielding tone. "Hold her arm steady." Alec winced but took her limp arm in his hands. Jocelyn lead the way, nearly running into the hospital. She stopped at the receptionist's desk, and signed in. She huffed, showing her annoyance at every form that passed in front of her face. She reluctantly used their real names, something she vowed not to do in Idris. She had no choice, Clary Fray didn't have medical insurance, but Clarissa Fairchild did.

A nurse came to guide Clary out of the waiting room. She insisted that she should walk, but Jace refused to put her down.

"I'll be with you in just a second sweetheart." Jocelyn called after her as she dotted the i's on one last form.

Once in the back, Jace laid her gently on a hospital bed, and Clary's head fell, exhausted onto the pillow. She winced and groaned. The white case was immediately stained red with her half congealed blood. The sterile smell of the hospital, and the bright white color of the room made Clary's stomach churn. She thought for a moment that she was going to be sick.

A man in a white lab coat walked in. "All right guys, this isn't an _Olive Garden_ commercial When you're here, everyone _isn_'t family." His tone was belligerent and sarcastic. "If you aren't related to her. It's time to go."

Jace looked at Clary with pleading eyes. "I'm her brother." He said. "I'll talk to you later Alec. Thanks for the ride."

Alec raised his eyebrows, completely dumbfounded, but he took that as his cue to exit. "All right then. See you guys later. I hope you feel better Clary." He turned and walked out of the room.

The man shuffled towards Clary, clipboard in hand. "I'm Dr. Verlac." He smiled "And you're Clarissa right?" Clary nodded. "Hmm… looks like you have a nasty break there, but at least it's clean. Clean breaks normally heal better. Oh and a bump on the head too." He took Clary's chin in his hand, and shined a flashlight in her eyes. They were clear, but he still looked concerned. "We'll get a cast on that arm, and I think you should stay over night."

Clary groaned. "Is that necessary?"

The doctor chuckled. "We need to keep an eye on that head, make sure there is no internal damage." Jace let out a quiet gasp. The doctor shot a glance in his direction. "Of course, everything should be fine. But we shouldn't take any chances."

Jocelyn finally came in. She looked to Clary, then the doctor, then Jace. "I think you can go now, you've done _quite_ enough." Jace hung his head. He wanted to stay, but he didn't want to anger Jocelyn. She already wanted to strangle him, and he wouldn't blame her if she did. But he still didn't want to leave. He looked at Clary with pleading eyes, begging her to intervene.

"No!" She shouted. "I want him to stay." Jace breathed a sigh of relief, and what looked like a smile danced at his lips.

"Clary!" Her mother roared, eyes wide and confused.

"I want him to stay." She repeated the words in a less forceful tone.

"Fine." Jocelyn huffed.

The doctor began to speak again. "I was just telling Clarissa that she was going to need to stay overnight."

Jocelyn nodded. "Will she be all right?" All the frantic panic returned to her voice.

"Yes, she doesn't seem to have suffered any internal damage, but we'll monitor her over night. It's more of a precautionary measure."

Jocelyn sighed and glared at Jace. He mouthed the words, _"I'm sorry."_ She scoffed at his apology. The doctor walked out of the room and returned with the materials to build Clary's cast.

She winced as he moved her arm and set it into the proper position. Jace stood in the back of the room staring, a look of pure agony on his face. He raked his fingers nervously through his blonde hair. It broke Clary's heart to see him so sad, even the stern bitter mask was better than that. Watching his self-loathing was worse than the pain in her arm. So she smiled at him. He nodded back, but his expression didn't change. So she reached out to him with her right hand, willing him to take it. He took a hesitant step forward, and glanced at Jocelyn. She sighed but motioned with her eyes for him to continue.

Their hands met and Jace laced his fingers through Clary's. The touch was electric. Her whole body tingled, and a grin as wide as the ocean spread out across Jace's face. Clary couldn't believe what she was seeing He was smiling, genuinely, sincerely smiling. She looked deep into his eyes, and all the pain in her arm melted away. She forgot her mother, she forgot the doctor and even the hospital. For a moment, it was just the two of them, existing together in some strange and wonderful alternate universe. His expression was serene, angelic even. Her breathing was erratic, and she didn't notice it but so was his. His heart pounded and he squeezed her hand tighter. She flashed a confused smirk. Clary had no idea what was going on, but she liked it.

"Okay, we're all done." The doctor's voice pulled her back into reality. "Now, let's get you out of the E.R. and into a regular room." A nurse rolled a wheel chair through the door of the room. Jace helped her to her feet and guided her over to the chair. The nurse walked behind Clary, but Jace stopped her, insisting that he push her himself. The nurse reluctantly backed off, and instead led the way to another wing of the hospital.

When they arrived, the nurse grabbed a thin gown from the closet, and handed it to Clary. Jocelyn turned to Jace. "I really think it's time for you to go now." He didn't protest this time.

He turned to Clary, who still sat in the wheelchair. Taking her hand in his he looked deeply into her eyes. "I'm so sorry Clary. I'll be back later." He paused with a thoughtful look on his face. "Do you like cheeseburgers?"

Clary chuckled. "Yes." He smiled again and started walking towards the door. Twice in the past ten minutes, it must have been some sort of Jace Lightwood smiling record. But she still had one more thing to say. "And Jace…"

He stopped and looked back at her. "Yeah?"

"Thanks."

Three times in ten minutes.

**A/N:** Aw, this was a fun chapter to write, kind of bloody. But I like how things turned out. Thanks for reading! Please review!


	6. Three Kinds of Milkshakes

**Forgotten Angels**

_Disclaimer: The Mortal Instruments Trilogy and all affiliated characters belong to Cassandra Clare_

A/N: This chapter has a little more angst than the last. I appreciate the reviews! Hope you enjoy! Thanks for reading!

**Chapter 5: Three Kinds of Milkshakes **

Jace made a mental note of the number on her door, and walked slowly down the carpeted hallway of the hospital. A foul scent filled his nose, like bleach and meatloaf, he thought. It made his stomach turn. The powerful florescent lights hurt his eyes. He tried not to look inside the open room doors on both sides of the hall. Each one of them seemed to have another miserable old person tucked in bed on the verge of death, wires and tubes coming out of every visible orifice. It brought back bad memories. This place was terrible. He hated himself for putting Clary here.

He pulled out his phone and began to text Alec. _I need a ride. _The message said. He took a few more steps, before his pocket buzzed. _Be there in 5_. Alec replied. Jace found the elevator and pushed the one. He strolled lazily through the lobby, trying to maintain his usual stern mask, but he feared it was cracking. Every time he saw that girl another little piece of it was chipped away. He couldn't decide how he felt about that.

Pushing his way through the revolving glass doors, he leaned against the side of the building, waiting for Alec. The air had cooled since he first carried Clary through the doors of the emergency room. A warm breeze wafted around him, blowing his hair away from his face. He held his damp shirt away from his body, hoping it would dry the blood…her blood. Anyone else's would have disgusted him.

He saw the black Mercedes turn into the parking lot. Stepping away from the building and into the sun, he tried to make himself visible without flailing his arms around like an idiot. Alec spotted him and pulled the car to a stop in front of the building. The dark tinted window slid down. Alec was grinning from ear to ear. "I don't usually pick up random knights in shining armor." He chuckled. "But you're too cute to pass up." He batted his eyelashes and winked.

Jace rolled his eyes. "Shut the fuck up." There was no expression in his voice. He walked around to the passenger side, opened the door and slid into the leather seat.

"Oh come on." Alec protested as he pulled forward. "You're a regular Lancelot. I've never seen anything like that."

Jace's features tightened into an irritated grimace. "I don't recall Lancelot breaking the shit out of Guinevere's arm and cracking her fucking skull on the concrete." His words were full of bitter anger and self-loathing.

"Yeah…but other than that." Alec couldn't help but snicker. "Seriously Jace, what the hell was that? I've never seen you act like that before."

He rubbed his forehead with his fingers, searching for the right words. They wouldn't come. "I don't know." His head fell, and he began to stare at the floorboard, a million thoughts racing through his cluttered mind.

Alec wanted answers. "I mean, I know you feel bad and all, even though it _was _an accident. But when you _carried _her into the hospital, and lied to that doctor so you could stay. You even took Jocelyn's rather nasty verbal abuse. You never let anyone talk down to you!" He gripped the steering wheel tightly and turned to his brother. "So… In your most eloquent of words, what the fuck is up?"

"God." Jace sighed deeply.

"Nope still Alec, sorry to disappointment." He was getting annoyed. Jace didn't usually keep things from him.

"Well fucking think about it Alec." He started to shout, seething with anger. "I broke her arm! I probably gave her a concussion or some shit. I think I fucking have to be nice to her!"

Alec nodded, not fazed by Jace's obvious rage. "Nice? Yes, I understand that completely. But nice stops at the damn hospital door. What you did wasn't nice it was… I don't know what the hell that was."

He turned to look at Alec, a concerned expression on his face. "Did I look like a dick when I lied to the doctor?"

"No." Alec replied. "It was sweet, like Disney movie sweet."

"You're an asshole."

Alec chuckled, he knew Jace didn't mean it. "I just didn't expect anything like that." He sighed, then felt like he should change the subject. "Are you hungry?" He asked.

"Nah." Jace replied. "I'll eat later."

"Mom and dad are at a party tonight, and the cabinets looked pretty bleak."

"I know. I was going to pick something up later."

"Oh cool, we'll go out for pizza or something." Alec smiled at the prospect of another opportunity to talk about the afternoon's events.

"No." Jace rejected the offer. "I'm going to get something for Clary and me, and take it back to the hospital."

His chin nearly hit the floorboard. "You're seeing her again? Tonight!" He exclaimed, his voice full of shock and confusion.

"Hospital food is fucking disgusting." Jace raked his fingers through his hair nervously. "I don't want her to have to eat it."

"Who the hell _are_ you?" Alec cried. Jace didn't respond. "Look, don't take this the wrong way." He hesitated. "But you sulk around all the time with a pissed off look on your face, not giving a shit about anything, and you won't bat an eye at a girl unless you know she'll put out. And _now_ you're acting like fucking Don Juan or something. Jesus, Jace you're being fucking considerate, and to be honest I'm kinda freaked out about it. Don't get me wrong, I think it's a nice change, but where the hell did this come from?"

Jace buried his head in his hands. "I don't know, Alec!" His voice was pleading. "I honestly don't know." The car came to a stop inside the dim garage.

"Well, when you figure it out. Can you fill me in?"

"Yeah" He sighed, as he opened the door and stepped out of the car. Jace didn't want to talk about it anymore. He could barely understand what happened that afternoon, trying to explain it to someone else was hopeless. He ran up the stairs, not pausing as he passed Isabelle.

"Is she all right?" Isabelle shouted. Jace didn't respond. He just kept going until he reached his room at the end of the hall. The walls were white with nothing hanging on them, no pictures, no posters, not a single clue that his room belonged to a teenage boy. His dark wooden desk wasn't cluttered, and the floor wasn't littered with dirty clothes. The mint green carpet was freshly vacuumed, and there wasn't a spec of dust to be found. The neatly made bed had a chocolate down duvet that was thick and luxurious, but it could have belonged to anyone. The matching curtains made it look like a hotel room, clean and generic. That's how Jace liked things.

He stripped off his blood stained shirt and placed it in the hamper. Half his closet was filled with black clothes, but for once he didn't feel like wearing black. He pulled a light blue polo out of the closet and ripped the tags from the collar. A Christmas present from Isabelle, he never thought he'd actually wear it.

Once he was dressed, he flung open his desk drawer, frantically searching for his sketchpad. He had some time to kill, and he desperately needed to clear his head. Putting his thoughts in a picture usually seemed to help. So he grabbed a set of colored pencils and began to draw: straight fiery hair, full crimson lips, deep green eyes, soft porcelain skin and the most vulnerable, compassionate expression he had ever seen. No one had ever looked at him like that before. Everyone wrote him off as a conceited dickhead, not that he blamed them. Jace didn't want to let anybody in. He was deathly afraid of revealing his soul because then someone would see. They would see the weak, insecure and broken spirit that he truly was. So he put up the mask, and no one ever bothered to challenge it, to look past it or even think that maybe he wasn't really so terrible…except Clary. She wasn't even angry that he hurt her. She just reached out to him and took his trembling hand. That's what was different, but how could he explain that to Alec?

The sketch didn't turn out as good as he'd hoped. She was much more beautiful than what he could capture on paper. But he couldn't help but smile as he stared at his distorted rendition of her features. That was his girl, and he knew it.

Tapping his fingers anxiously on the desk, he looked up at the clock…six thirty. He couldn't wait any longer. He grabbed the sketchbook off his desk and walked to Alec's door. "I'm taking your car." He yelled.

"Okay." Alec replied. Jace jogged down the stairs, grabbed Alec's keys and jumped into the little silver Honda parked beside Maryse's Mercedes. There was a space where Robert normally parked his Lexus, but the SUV was somewhere in the city that evening. The two of them frequented cocktail parties in New York. The two-door Honda had been too small to take everyone to the hospital, so Maryse's car suffered the damage. Jace hoped she'd be too tipsy to notice the stained leather tonight.

He turned the key over, and the engine came to life with a low purr. Pulling out of the garage, he turned the corner, headed for Bob's Diner on main street. It was supposed to have the best burgers in town.

Jace could smell the fried food from the parking lot. His stomach rumbled, and he headed inside the old-fashioned long silver building. An old lady stood at the counter in a white waitress's dress. "Hey there." She smiled. "What can I get for you?"

He raked his fingers through his hair, unsure of what to order. The waitress tapped her fingers impatiently on the counter. He let out an annoyed sigh. "I'll have two double cheeseburgers to go. One all the way, and one with everything on the side."

"Will that be all?" She asked.

He looked at the illuminated menu above the counter. "I'll take a large fry and one chocolate, one vanilla and one strawberry milkshake."

She punched the cash register and repeated the order. "So we've got two doubles, a large fry and three shakes, to go?" Jace nodded. "All right hon, that's $13.65." He dug a twenty out of his pocket, and handed it to her. She gave him his change and receipt. "You're number 134. It'll be about ten minutes."

He took a seat in a booth and buried his head in his hands. The minutes passed like centuries, his stomach full of nervous butterflies. The confused mix of emotions was overwhelming. He wanted to see her more than anything, but was scared to death at the same time. What was he going to say to her? How would she react? These feelings were so new, so foreign. He never really worried what a girl thought of him before. Their opinion meant absolutely nothing, this however…was different.

"134!" The lady called from behind the counter. Jace nearly jumped out of his seat. He struggled trying to carry the three cups and the white paper bag to the car, but he made it and raced to the hospital. Hands trembling in anticipation, he found a parking place and grabbed the food and his sketchbook. He had to push open the doors with his back because his arms were so full.

Knocking on Clary's door with his foot, he heard someone shuffle in his direction. Jocelyn peeked her head around the corner. She let out an angry sigh. "Come on in." Her voice was full of annoyed resentment. "She refused to eat what the nurse brought her." He nodded and tried to hold back a smirk. Clary was sitting up in bed, wearing nothing but a thin white hospital gown and a blanket over her legs. He gulped and tried to hide his nerves.

Clary's eyes lit up when he walked in. Her inner teenage girl was squealing. "You came back!" She couldn't hide the excitement in her voice.

"I said I would." Jace replied quietly. "How are you feeling? Are you hungry?"

"I feel all right, but I'm starving." Clary said, as she eyed the disgusting tray of hospital food on the table beside her bed.

"I brought you a cheeseburger, some fries and a milkshake."

"Looks like three shakes." She giggled.

Jace smirked. "I didn't know what flavor you wanted. So I got chocolate, vanilla and strawberry. I'll drink the one you don't want, and maybe your mom would like the other." He eyed Jocelyn, but didn't think a milkshake would be enough to get on her good side.

Jocelyn shook her head. "I'll leave it for Luke. He's on his way."

Clary picked up the vanilla shake. "Thanks Jace, that was sweet of you." He grinned from ear to ear, and sat the bag and his sketchbook on the table. "Uh mom?" She said.

"What Clary?" Her irritation was obvious.

"Maybe you should meet Luke in the lobby. You didn't tell him the room number when he called."

"Or I could just call him back." Jocelyn countered. Clary shot her a menacing glance. "Fine." She huffed, as she threw her hands up in the air and turned to walk out the door. Clary snickered under her breath.

Jace glanced out the door, making sure she was gone. "I don't think your mom likes me too much." He whispered, as he laid her cheeseburger on the table.

Clary feigned a surprised expression, "No? What in the world made you think that?"

He chuckled. It was the first time she'd ever seen him laugh. "Ah, I don't blame her, not after this afternoon." His face turned grim. "I deserve it."

"Shut the fuck up Jace." His chin nearly fell to the floor. She caught him off guard…again. "It was an accident. So if you're only here because you feel bad, there's the door. Don't let it hit you in the ass on the way out." She tried to be witty, but that was her greatest fear. She had genuine undeniable feelings for him, and if he were only there out pity then she rather he not be there at all. It would be too painful when her injuries healed, and he moved on.

Jace sighed, feeling defeated. "Fuck." He muttered the expletive under his breath. He struggled to find the words, and she sat their anxiously anticipating his response. "No." He hesitated, trying to walk the fine line between asshole and pathetic smitten teenager. "That's not the only reason I'm here."

Clary wanted more, but she could see how difficult it was for him. So she let it go at that. "Good." She smiled.

He changed the subject. "Here's your cheeseburger. I didn't know what you'd want on it. So I asked them to put everything on the side." He scooted the table across the floor so she could reach it. She took off the top bun and loaded her burger with everything: lettuce, tomato, pickles, ketchup and mustard.

She took a big bite. "Mmm… thanks, that's great."

"No problem, I'll know you're an all the way girl next time."

Clary nearly choked, as she burst out laughing. "Lovely choice of words." Her tone was sarcastic but she meant it, not because of the innuendo, but because he said there would be a _next time_.

Jace hung his head, the slightest hint of pink appeared on his cheeks. "Shit." He sighed, raking his fingers through his hair. "You know what I meant." He unwrapped his burger and took a bite.

She nodded. "Oh you're eating too? You don't have to stand. Pull that chair over here." She pointed to the corner where an empty folding chair rested against the wall. He pulled it up to the table, and she smiled. Clary had never been on a real date before, but she figured this had to count for something.

"Oh I almost forgot." He said, reaching back into the paper bag. "The fries." He set a big basket of steaming crinkle fries on the table. She took one, and they ate in silence for the next few minutes, the nervous tension began to fade.

Clary was the first to speak. "What's that?" She said, pointing to the book laying in front of Jace on the table.

"Oh, that's my sketchpad." He replied. "I wanted to show you something." Clary suddenly got excited. He grabbed a napkin and wiped the burger grease from his fingers. Leaning to the side, as he flipped through the pages, so Clary couldn't see his other drawings. "This one." He said, laying the book back on the table.

Her eyes grew wide, it was amazing. "Wow, it's me."

"Yeah, I had some time to kill when I got home, and we couldn't use colored pencils in art today. I thought my sketch would have looked better in color."

"My mom is like that, lots of color. But she's a painter."

"Oh." He said, some of the excitement gone from his voice. "I didn't know your mother was an artist. This probably isn't that special then."

"No." She replied eagerly. "It's wonderful…just one problem."

"And what is that?" He asked.

"I'm not anywhere near as pretty as the girl in that picture." The sincerity in her voice confused him. How could she possibly think that?

"Actually," he hesitated , "I was thinking the exact opposite."

Clary blushed a fiery red. Did he just call her pretty? She felt like she should return the complement. "I like your shirt." She said, pointing down at him. "It really brings out your blue eyes."

He chuckled and rolled his eyes. "Yeah!" His tone was full of sarcasm. "That's _exactly _what I was going for." She giggled. "Hey." He said. "Will you tell me something?"

"What do you want to know?" Clary replied.

"Why did you let Mrs. Meriwether call you by the wrong last name?" He asked with a curious expression on his face.

"Can you keep a secret?"

"No!" A voice shouted from the hallway. "He can't." Jocelyn pushed the door open, Luke following close behind her. "I suggest you forget about that Jace Lightwood, and mind your own damn business."

"Easy Jocelyn." Luke said, shooting her a bewildered look. He walked towards Clary. "How are you feeling, dear?"

She smiled. "I'm doing better."

"What did they do with that bump on your head?" Luke asked.

"Seven stitches." Clary replied turning her head, and parting her hair.

Luke bent down and examined the gash. "That's not so bad, at least it's easily hidden." Jace cringed and turned away, more bad memories came rushing back. "How long do you have to keep the cast on?" He asked.

"Eight weeks." Clary sighed. "But at least it's my left arm. So I can still write and draw."

"Yeah." Luke replied. "I hate that you got banged up, but I'd say you were pretty lucky." Jocelyn scoffed loudly and glared at Jace. Luke sighed, trying to stay calm. "Come on Jocelyn, be reasonable. He's just a kid, and look how hard he's trying to make things right."

"I don't care. Look what's he done!" Jocelyn shouted, fury rattling in her voice.

"It was an accident! They're kids! They horse around." Luke pleaded with her. "These things happen. It's best to just let it go."

Clary finally interjected, waves of anger coursing through her broken body, her face turning beet red. "Could you please stop talking about him like he's not here! Mom, Jace didn't do this on purpose. I harbor no ill will towards him, and you shouldn't either! In fact, you should thank him for scraping my bloody ass off the concrete today, and carrying me into this fucking hospital!" Jace didn't move or even think of speaking.

"Clarissa Fairchild! How dare you speak to me like that?" Jocelyn clenched her hands in tight fists. Rage surging off of her like electricity.

"After all he's done, how dare _you_ speak to him like that?" Mom, he's hardly left my side since the accident. He brought me dinner. He's let you talk to him like a dog all evening. I'm begging you, give him a break. Give us all a break, you're driving me insane."

"Fine Clary, if that's how you feel. Luke will be by tomorrow at noon to pick you up. We're leaving. Let's go Luke."

Luke turned to Clary, a regretful expression on his face. He mouthed the words, _"I'm sorry,"_ as he followed Jocelyn out the door.

Jace finally spoke up. "Shit Clary, I wish you hadn't done that." There was no malice in his tone, only disappointment.

"Jace, she was wrong. She had no right to treat you like that. I don't know what's wrong with her. I've never seen her act like that before… with anyone."

"You shouldn't fight with your mom over me."

"We'll work it out tomorrow, we always do."

His face turned grim. "I've royally fucked up your day, haven't I?"

"I think we've already had this conversation."

"Don't' fuck with me Clary. If it hadn't been for me you wouldn't be here, and your mom wouldn't be so damn pissed off."

She sighed. "Do you want to argue with me too?"

"I'm so fucking sorry." She reached her hand out to him, just like she had in the emergency room that afternoon. He took it just the same, lacing their fingers together. "Was your mother going to stay here with you tonight?"

"She was, yeah."

"Do you need me to stay?" There was a hint of pleading in his voice, but Clary didn't notice it.

She was completely taken by surprise. She wanted to scream _"Yes, yes!" _But she knew she couldn't say that. "Oh Jace jeez, you don't have to do that."

"I know I don't have to. I said, do you _need_ me to?"

Clary didn't know what to say. "I couldn't ask you to do that." She knew he was feeling bad now, and she didn't want him to stay out of pity.

"That's why I'm asking you." He countered.

"Jace, no not after all you've done for me today."

"Fuck Clary, just give me a straight answer. Do you need me or not?"

Her pride wouldn't let her admit the truth. "I can make it through the night."

He tried to hide his disappointment. "Well, I guess you'll want to go to bed early tonight. I should go." Clary's face suddenly fell into a frown. She figured he didn't really want to stay. "Do you want breakfast in the morning?"

"I'd love it." She perked up.

His tone lightened slightly. "It'll have to be early, before school, probably seven or so."

"That's fine, you can even wake me up if you have to." She mustered a chuckle.

"What do you want? So I don't have to buy the whole damn menu." He smirked.

"Sausage mcmuffin." She replied.

"I can do that." He paused for a long time, just gazing at her. "Well, good night Clary." He squeezed her hand tightly, before letting it fall. "I'll see you in the morning. Sweet dreams."

"Good night Jace." He grabbed his sketchbook off the table. "Can I keep that?" She whispered.

He furrowed his brows. "My sketchpad?"

"No, the picture you drew of me."

A wide grin spread out across his face. "You want to keep it?"

"I'd love to, if you don't mind."

He opened the book, and ripped the page out. "Here you go."

"Thank you. It's beautiful."

He smirked. "Clary?" His voice was shaky.

She suddenly became nervous. "Yes?"

"At the risk of sounding like a total fucking moron." He let out a deep breath. "I think you're really beautiful."

**A/N:** I thought I should end a rocky chapter on a high note. Thanks for reading! Reviews make Jace smile!


	7. Damaged

**Forgotten Angels**

_Disclaimer: The Mortal Instruments Trilogy and all affiliated characters belong to Cassandra Clare_

A/N: I really need to finish my other story, but I can't tear myself away from this one. I'm having so much fun writing it! Hope you enjoy!

**Chapter 6: Damaged**

"Clary." A soft voice whispered in her ear. "Clary, wake up." It beckoned her out of her sleepy fog. A gentle hand pushed her tangled hair away from her face. She opened her eyes halfway. Her vision was bleary, but she knew exactly who it was.

"Jace?" She murmured his name sleepily.

"Good morning." A wide grin stretched out across his face.

She returned the smile. "Good morning." Looking down, she could see he was carrying a white McDonald's bag. "This is service." She giggled, pointing to the food.

"I know." He spoke through light chuckles. "You've turned me into a fucking delivery boy."

"You know you don't have to Jace."

"Jesus, I'm just joking. I want to, _Clary_!"

"I appreciate it; it's very sweet of you." As the sleep cleared from her eyes, she got a better look at him. He was wearing his usual black t-shirt and ripped jeans. She suddenly felt self conscious in the thin hospital gown and what she imagined was terrible bed head. "God." She said, running her fingers through her messy hair. "I must look like hell."

He smirked. "I think I told you how I felt about that last night." She blushed a fiery red. He sensed her apprehension and moved on. "I can only stay about fifteen minutes this morning, gotta get to school."

She laughed, "You know, for a rebel you're awfully diligent."

"Just because I don't take shit from people," There was a slight hint of annoyance in his tone, "doesn't mean I'm a slack ass."

"No." She said thoughtfully. "I guess it doesn't. I saw your books in art yesterday, advanced physics or something. You must like science?"

He shook his head. "Not really, I just don't see the point in doing shit half way. I was always taught to be the best at everything." His smile had faded into a tortured grimace; bad memories crept into his psyche.

"That sounds like a lot of pressure." Clary replied in an understanding tone.

He nodded and quickly changed the subject. "Here, you better eat." He handed her the sausage mcmuffin. Her stomach began to rumble. "I got orange and apple juice. Which do you want?"

"Apple." She replied, as he stabbed a straw in the juice box. He scooted his chair a little closer to the bed this morning, and took his seat beside Clary. "You know what sucks?" She chuckled.

Swallowing a mouthful of juice he replied, "What?"

"Tomorrow, I'll have to get all my meals myself." Her tone was full of sarcasm but there was plenty of truth to her words.

"Clary." His tone suddenly became stern. "You know you don't have to be in the hospital for us to eat together." She couldn't hold back the grin bursting from her lips. "If that's what you want."

"I'd like that." She replied in a soft voice, trying to hide her excitement.

"Me too." He beamed, showing a mouth full of pearly white teeth. Clary fought a squeal that was rising in her throat. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, his smile faded. "I better go." He rose from his seat. "Do you think…maybe." The words were nervous full of hesitation. He raked his fingers through his blonde hair, and an audible sigh escaped his lips, "Can I have your fucking number?"

Rolling giggles burst from her throat, "Yeah."

He punched the number into his phone. "Thanks, I'll see ya later Clary."

"Bye." She waved sheepishly, as he turned and walked out. Her head fell back with a quiet thud against the pillow. _Oh my God_, she thought. Her hands were nearly trembling with excitement.

He was still such a mystery to her, but knew for sure that he was special…very, very special. He was terribly offensive with all the smoothness of a porcupine, but still she found herself falling for him…hard. Just underneath the tough exterior, there was a compassionate innocence that was quickly stealing her heart.

Taking deep breaths, Clary tried to relax herself. She hardly got a wink of sleep the night before. After Jace told her she was beautiful, it took hours for the buzzing excitement to fade into restless slumber. So she pulled the white blanket over her body and closed her eyes. A snapshot of his smiling face wouldn't leave her mind. Slowly a hazy black veil fell over her, and she dreamt of blonde hair, eyes alight with nervous excitement, crimson lips turned up in a wide grin and the most gentle _loving_ touch she had ever felt.

A thunderous knock at her door woke Clary for the second time that day. Luke peeked his head into the room. "Clary." He spoke quietly when he saw her sleeping frame.

Her eyes fluttered open quickly, "Hey Luke. I'm awake."

"Ready to head home kiddo? I already signed all the release papers. The doctor said you were doing fine."

"Yeah, let me change out of this…thing." She pointed at the hospital gown. "And we'll get out of here."

"All right, I'll wait outside the door." Luke slipped out of the room, and Clary groaned as she lifted herself from the bed. Her head swam, and she struggled to stand, legs feeling like Jell-o. She forgot that she hadn't walked since yesterday afternoon. Grabbing the side of the bed, she steadied herself and waited for the room to stop spinning. The cast felt heavy on her left arm. Eventually she was able to walk to the corner, and find the clothes her mother had brought her the day before. She slid off the gown and left it in the floor. Dressing herself quickly, she folded Jace's sketch and put it in her pocket. She hurried out the door and found Luke leaning against the wall, a worried grimace on his face.

"I'm ready." She said. Luke lead her down to the parking lot. The bright sun burned her weary eyes, and once again the truck was absolutely sweltering. "How's mom? Clary asked as he turned over the key and the engine roared.

"Angry, hurt, miserable… take your pick." He replied.

"Still….really? I thought she would have gotten over it by now. I just don't understand it, Luke. She's the one who filled my head with all that peace and love hippy junk. I don't know how many times she's given me the, don't judge a book by it's cover, speech." Her words were filled with angry sarcasm.

"I know." He sighed as he pulled out into the street. "It's just that Jace is… well he's different."

"Different? I wasn't aware there was an exception to the golden rule."

"Stop it Clary. This is serious. Did you ever stop to think that just maybe she doesn't want you to end up like her? You know she started dating your father when she was sixteen."

Her chin nearly hit the floor; she seethed with anger. "What? She thinks Jace is like my father? That's fucking crazy!"

"Language, Clary! Jeez, that boy is rubbing off on you already."

"I'm sorry, that's just the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard."

"I'm not saying she's right. I'm just trying to tell you how she feels. She was young, and he had an extremely magnetic personality. He was charismatic, one of those people who can make you believe whatever they say."

Clary snorted. "If she thinks Jace Lightwood is charismatic then she really is insane."

He wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead. "To be honest, her sense of rationality is not too sound at the moment. She's scared to death. She's hardly slept since we left the city. This Jace thing couldn't have happened at a worse time."

"So let me get this straight." She said in a thoughtful tone. "Mom doesn't want me to see Jace because Valentine is looking for us, but if we hadn't been hiding from him, I never would have met Jace."

"That sounds about right." Luke replied.

She sighed deeply. "Irony is a bitch."

He smiled knowingly, "Don't worry about it sweetheart, she'll come around eventually. Once this whole mess with your father blows over, she'll be back to normal."

"Luke." She paused as he turned to look at her. "What if it never goes away?"

"It will dear. Don't worry. We're just in a tough spot right now. The police can't do anything for us, except maybe a restraining order. Jocelyn thinks that will just make things worse, provoke him. She's probably right, a piece of paper isn't going to deter Valentine from what he wants. He's never been one to comply with authority, not even when we were kids."

"I don't understand." She cried. "Why didn't she press charges when he hurt her, get him sent to jail?"

"She was scared Clary, for herself and for your brother." His face became grim when he spoke of Jonathan. "She knew he would be out in thirty days, a year tops, then he'd come for her."

"And kill her?" She asked in a somber tone.

"I wouldn't put it past him."

"And what about now?" Clary pleaded. "Could we not prosecute him now for what he did to her when they were married?"

"That was nearly two decades ago. There's a statue of limitations on these sorts of things."

"So that's it? There's nothing we can? We just have to sit around and fear for our lives?" Defeat washed over her.

"No, I think it would do your mother a lot of good to see you happy here. So try to put on a good face for her… please. I'm begging you, don't fight her on this Jace thing. And if you absolutely have to see him, be _discreet _about it."

A devilish smile danced on her lips. "Luke!" She exclaimed. "Are you suggesting I lie to my mother?"

"No, I'm merely asking you to omit a few key details. She's being unreasonable right now, I can see that. So I think it would work to everyone's advantage, including my own, if you kept your relationship clandestine."

"We don't have a _relationship_, I've only known him for a few days."

"But you do like him?"

"Yeah." She blushed. "I do."

"Well it's pretty obvious how he feels about you. Standing over your bed with that dopey look on his face, I honestly thought he was stoned at first."

"Be nice Luke!" She shouted.

"I think I'm being, dare I say it… pretty cool about this whole situation. But I'm only supporting this because I can see it makes you happy. But please, Clary, please don't get into any trouble we're going to have to go on _The Maury Show_ to sort out."

She snorted. "You are the father!" She shouted the words in a deep voice.

"Oh God, don't _even_ joke about that. I think your mom really would kill him, and I wouldn't be far behind."

"Come on, you know I'm more responsible than that."

"Yes, I know you are that's why I'm letting this go on. Just be careful with your mother and…other things." She knew he was talking about sex, but really wasn't in the mood for that conversation.

"Of course." She replied as they pulled into the garage.

"Now." He spoke as he killed the engine. "Go make things right with her. Hug, Apologize…the whole nine yards."

"You got it." She smiled. "And Luke, thanks. You _are_ being pretty cool about this."

"Of course dear, you know I relish these warm and fuzzy _7__th__ Heaven_ moments." His voice was full of humor but no sarcasm. He was sincere. They slid out of the truck and headed inside.

Clary immediately began looking for Jocelyn. She expected to find her at her usual spot at the dining room table, but she wasn't there. She walked to Jocelyn's bedroom and slowly opened the door. The room was dim, and her mother was curled up on the bed in a thick orange duvet. Tears stained her porcelain cheeks.

"Mom." She said quietly. "Are you all right?" Clearly she wasn't.

"Come here Clary." Jocelyn spoke through quiet sobs. "You know I hate it when we fight."

"Me too mom." She walked towards the bed and wrapped her mother in a warm embrace. "I'm sorry about yesterday." Tears began to form in Clary's eyes.

"I know sweetheart, and I'm sorry for being so rude to Jace. You were right. I shouldn't have acted that way." Clary suddenly perked up, maybe she was going to be reasonable about this after all. "I should have politely asked him to leave." Maybe not, Clary was overwhelmed by disappointed. .

"I respect what you're saying, mom." She chose her words very carefully. "But could you please explain to me why you hate him so much?" Tears began to stream down her face.

"I don't hate him Clary." She sighed deeply. "It's just… there are things in his past that make him unstable. I've talked to Maryse about him. She had to warn me before we came to dinner. Evidently, he's clinically depressed…among other things. He was even on suicide watch at one point. I just don't want you mixed up with a guy like that. He might be into drugs and God only knows what else."

She swallowed hard. Jocelyn's words fell on her shoulders, another heavy burden to bear. She had no idea how flimsy Jace's mental stability truly was. But if that was the case, how would he react if she rejected him? "Isn't he on medication or in therapy?" Clary asked, but she already knew the answer.

"Yes, but he hasn't made the emotional and social progress that the doctors expected. Apparently, he's well adjusted physically and academically. But he had a very rough childhood, and he needs more time to recover even a shred of congeniality. Who knows? He may never get better. Emotional scars run deep, Clary."

Low sobs spilled from Clary's lips. "It's just not fair. He was just a child."

"I know…I know. You just have to understand. He's damaged." Clary wanted to scream. Why couldn't she understand that Jace needed friends, not more people to reject him? She promised Luke that she'd pretend for her mother, but nothing would stop her from seeing Jace…especially now. "Just promise me, you'll keep your distance from him?"

She nodded. "I will." Her mothers arms suddenly gripped her tighter, Clary hated lying to her. "I just want to keep you safe." Jocelyn whispered.

"But what about Alec and Isabelle?" She asked. "They're my only friends here."

"Aww Clary, I wouldn't do that to you. Honestly, I'm not trying to be mean. I'm just trying to do what I think is best for you. Of course, you can still see them. From what I've heard, Jace is somewhat of a recluse. So just do your best to steer clear. He'll get the hint."

"Okay." She sighed.

"Thank you, I was so afraid you were going to fight me on this, and honestly I just can't take the stress."

"I know mom. Things are difficult right now, but they'll get better." Clary hated being the voice of reason. Her mom was supposed to be the one comforting her, not the other way around. She hated to admit it, but when it came to her father Jocelyn was still a frightful teenage girl. The past week had opened up all of her mother's old emotional wounds, ones that Clary feared would never heal.

"All right, I can't mope any longer." Jocelyn declared. "I'm going to go call Maryse, and tell her what we've decided. That way she'll be prepared to deal with Jace."

"Mom!" She protested. "Are you sure that's necessary?"

"She needs to know. Trying to keep up with that boy drives her crazy. He won't tell her anything."

"Fine." Clary sighed, giving in. She turned and walked out of the room. Jocelyn shuffled around looking for her cell phone. Clary left the door cracked and remained in the shadowy hallway, eavesdropping on the conversation."

"Hey Mar, it's Jocelyn." Her mother said. "Clary and I just talked about it." Her voice held a hint of excitement. There was a short pause. "No, she didn't fight me on it. I couldn't believe she didn't scream, or yell, or anything. Maybe she was putting on a show for him last night." Clary rolled her eyes. Another longer pause. "Nah, I told her she could still go to your house. I just couldn't take Alec and Isabelle from her. She'd be crushed. But I would appreciate it if you'd keep an eye on him when she's there." This was going to be harder than Clary thought. Now two parents would be working to keep them apart. There was short silence. "Aw, well she likes them too. I'm so glad they're friends, reminds me of you and I when we were in high school."

Clary didn't need to hear anymore. She went to her room and closed the door. Pulling Jace's sketch from her pocket, she couldn't help but smile. He _really_ thought she was beautiful. The rest of the day passed without incident. Clary sketched and listened to music, Jocelyn didn't bother her anymore after their conversation. In fact, they didn't even speak again until dinner. Then it was just playful small talk, everyone's attempt to forget about the undeniable dread that constantly loomed over them. She went to bed early that night, emotionally exhausted from the day. It was only nine o'clock when she fell into a heavy slumber.

A faint buzzing noise rang in her ears. Her eyes suddenly flew open. At first she thought it was the alarm clock, but she didn't even have one here. It was still black outside, the only light came from the pale glow of a waning moon. "Phone!" She whispered excitedly, finally realizing what was going on. Opening her drawer, she saw a glowing green box that read _1 New Text Message_.

Her heart suddenly leapt into her throat. She didn't want to get too excited incase she was wrong, but deep down she knew exactly who it was from. Grabbing the phone quickly, she flipped it open and began to read. _It's Jace._ A wide grin stretched out across her face. _Which window is your's? _She read the last sentence several times before it sank in. He was coming over!

Her fingers moved frantically over the keypad. _In the back of the house. _She wrote. _Third window past the sliding glass door. _She laid the phone on her nightstand, and quickly threw off the heavy duvet. She crept as quietly as she could to the door and felt around for the lock. It clicked as she turned it over.

There was a light rap at the window. Her body went rigid, suddenly afraid. She whipped around and saw a dark shadow looming behind her curtain. Hesitantly, she walked forward, the floorboards creaking with each step. Slowly pulling back the fabric, a familiar silhouette was revealed. Relief and ecstatic joy washed over her. She pushed the window up as quietly as possible.

She tried to speak, but he placed his fingers over his lips, signaling for her to be quiet. Then he motioned enthusiastically with his arms for her to come outside. She eyed the window, and decided that it was low enough for her to climb out without a chair.

She swung her leg over and rested her right arm on the windowsill. She felt his hands on her rib cage, guiding her outside. Her breath hitched at his strong grip. Suddenly she became very aware of what she was wearing, purple short satin shorts and a matching thin lacey camisole. It was the closest thing to lingerie that she owned. His hands were just inches away from her nearly bare breasts. Her face grew hot, as a feverish blush tinted her cheeks. She was unexpectedly glad it was too dark to see each other's faces. He continued to pull her forward, and the heavy cast on her left arm banged against the windowsill. They both shuddered and froze, listening intently. But the rest of the house was quiet, their sleep undeterred by the noise.

The cold wet grass snaked between Clary's toes. Goosebumps immediately broke out over her arms and legs, and she began to shiver. Without a word, Jace took her by the arm and lead her quickly away from the house. He didn't stop until he reached a tree deep in the back yard, at least fifty yards away from both houses. She could just make out the faint shape of a blanket under the shady branches of the weeping willow.

"I thought this would be a good place for us to talk." He whispered as he guided her into a seated position on the blanket. It was already damp from the grass. Clary nodded, her teeth chattering violently. "God, you're fucking freezing." He examined what she was wearing, a touch of excitement flaring in his eyes. But his voice was belligerent, as if he were talking to a three-year-old. "Where are your shoes?"

"Sorry! I wasn't exactly prepared for any secret rendezvous in the backyard at midnight." Her tone was annoyed but playful.

He chuckled as he removed his brown leather jacket and wrapped it around her trembling frame. "Anyway." He continued, his voice picking up a hint of anger. "The reason I brought you out here was to tell you that Maryse said I couldn't fucking see you anymore." Clary's heart sank. Was he actually going to listen to her? "I told her to fuck off."

She giggled and breathed a sigh of relief. "My mom said the same thing."

"And what did you say?"

"I _certainly_ didn't tell her to fuck off."

"You nearly did last night." He laughed.

"No." She sighed. "Luke and I talked about it this morning. He said I could see you, but my mom can't find out. She's under enough stress right now. So I agreed."

"So Luke is okay with it?"

"Yeah, that's what he said."

His white teeth gleamed in the darkness. "That's pretty fucking cool of him."

Clary giggled, "I'll have to tell him you said that. He'll be proud." She paused. "Are you okay with it? Keeping things a secret, I mean."

"Yeah, we just have to hide from your mom and Maryse. Luke can cover for us, and Robert doesn't give two shits about anything I do. He gave up on me years ago."

"So, you want to make this our spot?" Clary asked excitedly.

"Our spot?" He snickered.

"Yeah you know, like where we always meet."

"Sounds good, until winter comes or it's raining or something."

"Yeah, we'll have to work something else out then." She replied. There was a long silence, as they both settled into more relaxed positions, leaning against the tree. Their eyes were quickly adjusting to the darkness. She could now see that he was in dark jeans and a white t-shirt.

"You know…" He hesitated. "I pegged you as a pajama pants kind of girl." Feeling embarrassed, she wrapped his jacket around her tighter. "Oh fuck. No, I didn't mean it like that." He said in a shameful tone. "I just…whoa."

"Whoa what?" She replied angrily.

"You look kinda…" He couldn't bring himself to spit out the word.

"Kinda what?" She demanded.

He looked away from her. "Sexy." His voice was only a murmur, but she felt herself blushing. Clary never really thought of herself as sexy. Her breasts weren't big, and her butt definitely didn't belong on the cover of a hip-hop album. She found herself to be very…average.

She scoffed and rolled her eyes, "Yes, and my cast is the perfect accent."

He sighed. "I'm being serious. Why can't you see it?" He gently cupped her chin in his hand and brushed the messy red hair away from her eyes. Her breath hitched, and her heart began to pound against the walls of her chest. She could hear his heart pounding too, and his hand began to tremble. "I want to prove it to you." He whispered.

"Prove what?" Clary asked in a breathy murmur.

"How fucking beautiful I think you are." His head moved slowly towards hers. Electricity coursing through their veins, he stopped, his lips only an inch from hers. His hot breath melted against her mouth. She couldn't take it anymore, she closed the gap, and their lips met.

Clary's stomach was suddenly filled with a thousand anxious butterflies. She could barely breathe, as his soft lips moved eagerly against hers. His hands slid under the jacket to her waist, and hers found the back of his neck, lightly stroking his blonde hair. She pulled him closer, and he let out an excited groan, as he took her top lip into his mouth. She took his bottom lip lightly sucking, feeling waves of heat roll off his lean muscular body.

She didn't know where it came from, but a light moan escaped her throat. He responded my sinking his tongue into her mouth. She met it with a greedy eagerness, pulling his body still closer to hers. He groaned with desire, caressing her tongue with his. She couldn't get enough; his eager mouth tasted of peppermint. Feelings that she didn't even know she had blazed inside her…passion. Eventually, Clary's lungs burned from lack of oxygen. She slowed her lips, and reluctantly pulled away. Heart still pounding, she took a deep breath.

His grin was as wide as she'd ever seen it. "Believe me now?"

**A/N:** It is SO late, nearly 4:30 a.m.! I really need to go to sleep, but had to finish this chapter! Thanks for reading! Reviews are hotter than a midnight rendezvous!


	8. The Wrong Last Name

**Forgotten Angels**

_Disclaimer: The Mortal Instruments Trilogy and all affiliated characters belong to Cassandra Clare_

A/N: The next two chapters are going to be a lot of background information. Hope you enjoy!

**Chapter 7: The Wrong Last Name**

After his late night with Clary, school came much too early for Jace. His eyes were heavy, but it was worth it. He did something he had wanted to do since the moment she shouted and cursed at him. He couldn't help but chuckle when he thought about the strange occurrences that brought them together. A romance built on curse words and broken bones. It wasn't _The Notebook_, but it was better than he ever imagined. They didn't hardly speak after the kiss the previous night. She just nodded yes, that she believed him when he said he thought she was beautiful. He worried that her lack of a response meant she didn't reciprocate his feelings, but she didn't move either, didn't pull away from his embrace. Her head rested comfortably on his shoulder, as he held her in his arms. Warm in his leather jacket, she fell into a deep and peaceful sleep. He had to carry her back to her window.

He stared blankly at the board, while the physics teacher droned monotonously about gravity or something. In that moment, he thought he knew exactly how Ferris Bueller felt. The only thing that kept him awake was the excitement of knowing that he would see her again…soon. But there was still an hour before lunch, and he wasn't sure how he wanted to handle that situation. He hated to be a coward, but he knew it would be brutal inviting Clary to sit with him when Isabelle was around. Her reactions were always so dramatic. He didn't want her to make a scene and embarrass Clary. There was no way he was going to sit with those girls, especially with Aline there. She had a crush on him, but he hated her conceited arrogance.

"Mr. Lightwood." A low voice called from the front of the room, interrupting his thoughts. His head immediately shot up. "Are you with us?" The bald teacher asked. Which was a polite way of saying, you look like you aren't listening. Jace nodded. "Well perhaps you could tell us the equation for Newton's law of universal gravitation?" Which was a sly way of saying, I'm going to prove you weren't listening.

Jace paused, scanning his brain for the correct answer, "Um," He stumbled. The teacher looked victorious, like he had beaten him. This strengthened his resolve; Jace thought harder until it finally came to him. "The product of the mass of the two objects over the distance squared times the gravitational constant." His voice was emotionless, but he smiled inwardly, proud that he had proved the teacher wrong. The rest of the hour dragged on, as he doodled on his notes.

When the bell finally rang, he sighed with relief and slid his thick book into his black backpack. He put the straps over his shoulders and tried not to break out into a full sprint towards the cafeteria. Maintaining the stern mask was getting harder and harder.

He cut in front of some freshmen in the lunch line. They groaned in protest, but he cast an angry glare in their direction, and they quieted down. Because he refused to eat actual cafeteria food, he grabbed an orange juice and a pack of strawberry pop-tarts before heading to his usual booth.

Alec was already sitting there, his hand buried in a bag of Doritos. "Hey man." Alec said.

"Hey." He replied, taking a deep breath, trying to muster the courage to stand up, and go get Clary. He chickened out. "Alec?"

"Yeah?"

"Will you text Izzy for me?"

"Why don't you text her?" He asked, a confused look on his face.

"Fuck, just do it."

"Jeez…" He wiped his fingers on his pants and grabbed his phone from his pocket. "What do you want me to say?"

He sighed deeply. "Will you ask her and Clary to sit with us today?" A wide grin stretched across Alec's face, as his fingers moved frantically across the keypad. "Fuck." Jace replied. "Why are you smiling like that?"

Alec chuckled lightly. "Cause you've got a serious jones for the redhead."

He slapped his hand against his forehead. "Did you really just fucking say that?" Alec was silent for a long time, then finally cleared his throat loudly. Jace turned to see the two girls standing behind him. Clary looked different than she had last night. No longer clad in purple satin and lace, she seemed more like herself. But her tight green t-shirt made her red hair pop. His heart began to pound inside his chest.

"Okay, what's going on here?" Isabelle asked.

"Have a seat." Alec replied, moving over to give his sister room. She sat down and motioned for Clary to follow, leaving her a tiny bit of space on their bench.

"Not gonna let her sit with me, Izzy?" Jace asked, in an almost lighthearted tone .

She rolled her eyes. "I don't want you to break her again."

"Shut up Isabelle." Clary interjected, as she took a seat beside Jace, resting her heavy white cast on the table . He wrapped his arm reassuringly around her waist, and Isabelle's chin nearly hit the floor.

"What the hell is this?" She cried, pointing at Clary and Jace.

Alec tried to answer, "I think they're an…" He struggled to find an appropriate word. "Item."

"Clary!" She screamed. "Why? And Jace? When did you start acting human?"

His face morphed into an angry grimace. "Why don't you fucking hear me out before you start judging us like a stuck up little bitch?" His words were full of venom.

"Look, Jocelyn and Maryse don't want us together."

Isabelle scoffed. "I wonder why?" Her voice packed with sarcasm.

Jace clenched his fist against Clary's back, but he didn't respond. "Luke is okay with it, but he says we have to hide it from Jocelyn. Which means, whatever you see or know about us, you don't fucking talk about around our mothers. Got it?"

Alec nodded in agreement, but Isabelle's nostrils flared and her eyes narrowed in on Clary. "Why didn't you tell me about this? You don't know what you're doing." Her voice was quiet now, but even more menacing than before. "You don't know what he's like. I've lived with him for the past seven years." She spoke as if Jace wasn't sitting two feet away from her. "He's angry Clary, very angry. You're sweet, innocent and probably still a virgin for God's sake! He's not the right guy for you."

Clary's face turned into a miserable frown, and Jace protectively tightened his arm around her waist. "Isabelle." She said her name calmly. "I know you don't agree with this, but you're my friend. And if Jace and I are ever going to be able to spend time together outside of school, then we're going to need your help."

She scoffed. "Why would I lie to mom so you can get mixed up with an asshole?"

"I know it sounds crazy because you've known him so much longer than I have, but he isn't what you think."

"Shit Clary, enlighten me! Tell me exactly how Jace _is_? She glanced at him rolling her eyes in annoyance.

Clary looked to Jace, worried that she'd embarrass him. He appreciated the gesture but nodded eagerly for her to continue. In fact, he was even more curious than Isabelle. "Well…" Clary stammered. "He's sweet, compassionate, thoughtful, intelligent, honest and…" She hesitated. "An amazing kisser." Jace flashed a sly smile.

"Oh God Clary!" Isabelle cried. "No! Please tell me no! You did not already kiss him! I think I'm going to puke."

Always the voice of reason, Alec tried to diffuse the situation. "Izzy please, I know you and Jace don't get along, but he's our brother. Show some compassion. You shouldn't even think of it as helping him, you're helping Clary."

"No I'm not Alec!" She protested, slamming her fists on the table. "Jace has been a pissed off, brooding son of a bitch for seven years, and you expect me to believe that two days with her magically changed him. Six different therapists, twelve medications, and let's not forget that short stay in the "special hospital," had no effect whatsoever, but Clary comes in and bats her long red lashes, and he's suddenly fixed. I don't buy it!"

Jace groaned; he wished Clary hadn't heard that. "I'm not fucking fixed Isabelle." His grimace turned up into a smirk. "I'm sure I'm still perfectly fertile."

Clary and Alec giggled, but Isabelle's eyes widened in astonishment. "When did you get a sense of humor?" She exclaimed.

"Okay Isabelle." Jace sighed deeply and looked directly into her eyes. This was going to be agonizing, but it was necessary. He swallowed his pride. "I'm fucking sorry for the way I treated you…over the last seven years." Despite the expletive, the apology was clearly sincere and painful. "Now will you help us?"

She let out a deep breath, finally giving in. "I guess." She paused. "But Clary, if this turns out badly, don't say I didn't tell you so." The words were just a whisper.

Alec let out a quiet squeal. "This is going to be great, just like _Romeo and Juliet_." The entire table simultaneously rolled their eyes and groaned.

"I fucking hope not." Jace said. "They both _died_ at the end."

Alec chuckled, "Well yeah, I meant other than that."

"Forgive him, Clary." Isabelle giggled. "A forbidden romance is the most exciting thing that's happened here in years." She tapped her fingers on the table. "Hmm… this works out pretty well actually. I was going to invite you over this weekend anyway. There's a party in the city on Saturday night; I thought you might want to go to that, then spend the night. We can't drive ourselves so Alec and Jace could come along."

She smiled. "That sounds great." She didn't necessarily like the idea of returning to the city, but she was glad that Isabelle wasn't angry.

"Yeah great." Alec scoffed, his tone full of sarcasm. "I'd be honored to be your chauffer for the evening." He paused. "Who do you know in the city anyway?"

"I don't." She replied. "It's Aline's cousin's friend, he's throwing a rave for his twenty-first birthday."

"So you're practically related to the guy?" Alec joked.

"It doesn't matter." Isabelle exclaimed. "It's a rave. It'll be dark, and they'll be so many damn people there that he won't know who he invited."

"Ah I wouldn't worry about it Alec." Jace snickered. "It's easy to make friends when everyone is fucked up on E."

Clary's eyes widened. "You're not going to do that? Are you?" She hated the thought of him doing drugs because if he did, it meant that her mother and Isabelle were right about him.

"Nah." He replied, pulling her closer. She sighed with relief and rested her head on his shoulder. "Do I seem like the type of guy," he whispered, "who takes the _love_ drug?"

She snorted, nearly spitting out her water. "I guess you have a point there."

The thunderous bell echoed through the cafeteria. Alec and Isabelle wadded up their trash into a ball and picked up their stuff to leave. "Well," Isabelle paused, looking at Clary, "this has certainly been…interesting."

Clary smiled and mouthed the words, _"thank you." _Isabelle nodded, as she and Alec walked away. Jace slowly pulled his arm away from Clary's waist, caressing her back with his open palm. She slid away from him and stood up.

He followed, grabbing his backpack and holding out his free hand to Clary. "Art?" He said, as she laced her fingers through his.

"Let's go." And with that, the two of them walked hand in hand through the crowded hallways, attracting whispers, astonished stares and relentless pointing. But neither of them batted an eye at the unwanted attention. Jace didn't even wear an angry expression. He didn't need the mask when she held his hand.

"Welcome back!" Mrs. Meriwether said as they passed over the threshold of the classroom door. "Jace told us about the accident. I'm very sorry."

Clary faked a smile, but was glad that Jace had told her about the incident. She'd already explained the entire thing to three teachers that day. "It's all right. At least it was my left arm."

"Yes." The teacher giggled. "A broken bone is no excuse for late work." Clary mustered a chuckle and guided Jace to their table in the back of the room. They sat down, chatting idly as the room began to fill, and Mrs. Meriwether called the class role.

"Clary Fray," The teacher called pointing to her with her pencil. She nodded, and Jace shot her a wary glance.

"Later." She whispered.

"Today," the teacher shouted, "We're going to start our final unit, color. We're going to be painting a color wheel." Clary sighed deeply; the idea of painting a diagram was beyond mundane. Mrs. Meriwether placed a large poster-board on the easel, and started her demonstration.

Clary couldn't pay attention. She stared out the window, daydreaming about kisses under weeping willows. Suddenly her pocket buzzed, she covertly took her phone out and held it under the table. _1 New Text Message _it said. She opened it up and read Jace's name. A quiet giggle escaped her lips, and he nodded for her to read it.

_Going to P.E.?_ He wrote.

She flashed him a confused look and quickly replied. _Yes, why? _His phone lit up, and he lowered his head to reply.

The phone buzzed in her hands. _You can't play volleyball with that arm. _

Her fingers moved quickly across the keys. _I'll sit on the bleachers and talk to Izzy. _He read the message and rolled his eyes. She started to type again. _What are you getting at?_

He smiled devilishly. _Let's get out of here. _Clary paused to think about his proposal. Is this what her mom warned her about? She shook off those feelings. It was _just _P.E.

_Okay._ She wrote, and slid her phone back into her pocket.

"All right," Mrs. Meriwether said, "Select one person from your table to gather materials.

"My turn." Jace said, as he lifted himself from the chair. He gently touched her hair as he passed. After a few minutes, he returned with a tray of primary colors, two brushes and paper.

The two of them finished quickly, and sat there anxiously waiting to make their escape. "Where are we going?" Clary whispered. "Because we have to be back when school is over. Luke is picking me up."

Jace nodded. "I thought we could just go sit in Alec's car and talk." Her stomach tied into an uneasy knot. She knew it was risky. If they got caught, it would look bad, very bad. But he looked sure of himself, so she didn't protest.

When the bell finally rang he leaned in and whispered in her ear. "Go out the side door of the cafeteria, and go to the senior parking lot. There's a silver Honda with dark tinted windows parked at the far left end. The door is unlocked, get in and wait for me."

"What if someone stops me?" Clary asked.

"Tell them you're lost." He replied. "Ask for directions to the gym." Clary smirked as she picked up her notebook and turned away from Jace. She hurried back to the empty cafeteria and found the side door. There was absolutely no one around and it was a straight shot to the parking lot. Jace really did know what he was talking about. She couldn't believe how easy it was to sneak out of this school. In New York, there were cameras, metal detectors and police officers everywhere, but in Idris skipping class was just a matter of walking out the door.

There were a few silver cars parked on the left side of the parking lot, but Clary sighed with relief when she saw only one Honda. The windows were darkly tinted, just as Jace had said, and it sat in the shadiest space at the very end of the lot. She took a few hesitant steps and glanced around…no one. She walked to the car and slid into the passenger's seat.

Despite the shade, the car was still very hot, and she had to leave the door slightly cracked so the afternoon breeze could get in. It was nice being away from the bustling crowd, and the screaming kids. She relished the moment of peacefulness, laying the seat back and closing her eyes.

The clicking driver's side door startled her from her calm relaxation. Jace slid into the seat beside her. "Fuck," He exclaimed. "It's hotter than hell in here." He pulled the key from his pocket, then looked at her still frame. "Sorry," He chuckled. "Did I interrupt your nap?" He turned the engine over and turned the air conditioning on high.

"Nah." She smiled, as the cool air hit her face. "You should be the one sleeping anyway. I got plenty of rest last night."

His eyes lit up, as he recalled Clary's sleeping body pressed against his chest. No one had ever been that comfortable around him before. It made him feel…human. "I'm glad." He grinned. "And that was fucking worth a few hours of lost sleep."

She giggled, picking her thick hair up off her neck. The air conditioning cooled her bare skin. "You know Jace, you're the only person I've ever known to use the word _fuck_ as a term of endearment."

He ruffled his black shirt against his chest, trying to cool down. "People often ignore it's intrinsic versatility." She snorted but didn't respond. There was a long silence, but instead of being awkward, it was peaceful. "Clary." He murmured, caressing her cheek with the back of his hand. "Will you please tell me why you let the art teacher call you by the wrong last name?"

Her smile faded into a sad frown. "You can't tell anyone." She whispered. "Not even Alec or Isabelle. Jace nodded. "It's my father."

"Luke?" He interjected.

"No, my real father. Luke is just my mother's best friend."

"What about him?"

"He's kind of… looking for us." She struggled to explain the delicate situation. "Well actually, he found us in the city. That's why we had to come to Idris."

"Is your mother fighting with him or something? Why wouldn't she want him to know where you are? I mean, he's your fucking father for God's sake."

Clary shook her head. "You don't understand. He was abusive." Her voice began to shake.

"Oh." He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "He didn't ever hurt you? Did he?" Anger flared in his eyes, but the words were still quiet.

"No, I've never even met him." Clary explained. "My mom left him when she was pregnant with me. I had never heard his voice, until he left a message on our answering machine."

"What did he say?" Jace asked cautiously.

Clary took a deep breath, her hands starting to tremble. "He threatened to kill us."

His eyes grew wide, and he grabbed her hand. He was sure it wasn't true, no one could want to hurt her. "Oh my God Clary. I'm so sorry. Are you sure he'd actually do that? Or is he just trying to scare you?"

"I know he would." Her voice was just a whisper. "He killed my brother." A large tear rolled down Clary's cheek. Jace immediately took her in his arms, her cast crushing uncomfortable into his side.

"Why isn't he in jail?"

"It wasn't something she could prove." Clary sobbed. "He died in a fire. The nursery was upstairs, and he was all alone. My mother was going to save him, but he told her to go outside. He said he would get the baby, but he didn't." Jace wiped the flowing tears from her cheeks with his thumbs.

"I'm so sorry," He whispered, "but how do you know he did it on purpose?"

Clary took deep breaths, trying to calm herself enough to speak. "My mom had Jonathan when she was only eighteen. He was born two months premature. He had heart problems; he nearly died at birth. The doctors said he was going to have a lot of developmental problems." She paused trying to stifle the sobs. "My father hated him. He accused my mom of cheating, because he _couldn't_ be the father of a child like that."

"That's fucking ridiculous." Jace murmured, as he rhythmically caressed her back, trying to soothe her.

"I know." Clary sobbed. "My mom said Jonathan looked just like him, but he would never call him son. He was abusive before, but things got much worse after the birth. She had no where to go. My grandparents hadn't talked to her in two years, because they didn't approve of her marriage."

"So she stayed with him?" Jace asked.

Clary nodded, "Yeah." She clenched her trembling fists. "Then just before his first birthday, a space heater shorted out in the nursery. The smoke alarm went off, but," she hesitated trying to push back the lump in her throat, "nobody saved him. He let him die! I know he did!" Her voice broke over the words, and streams of tears poured from her eyes. "He was just a baby, Jace! How could anyone do that?" She cried.

His shirt was soon soaked with her tears. "I know Clary, it's absolutely fucking terrible. I'm just so sorry." He stroked her hair lovingly with his fingers. "I'm just so glad she left before you were born."

"Why?" She shouted. "I'm not safe anymore. He's after us, and I don't care what my mother says he _will_ find us again. It's only a matter of time." Her overwhelming sadness and fear were exhausting. Her voice faded into a whisper. "He hates my mother for leaving him. He'll kill us."

Furious rage burned inside Jace. His heart raced erratically, and he tightened his embrace around Clary. How could life be so unfair? The one person he'd ever known who actually understood him was on some crazy asshole's hit list. But he wasn't going to let it happen, not to her. "No!" Jace screamed. "He won't touch you!" He took her face between his hands. "Look at me Clary!" She stared directly into his eyes. "I swear I won't let him hurt you."

"I'm so afraid." She sobbed.

"Don't be Clary, I promise I'll protect you." He was resolute, but he had no idea how he was going to do that considering the present restrictions on their relationship.

"Jace, you can't be there all the time." The words were a grim murmur. "My mom won't even let you in our house."

He rolled his eyes playfully. "Since when have the rules ever stopped me from doing what I want."

She mustered a smile. "I guess you're right."

"Please don't worry, we'll figure something out." He leaned down and planted a soft kiss on her forehead. She nuzzled into his neck. "Ah, shit." He shouted looking at the clock on the dashboard. School is almost over.

Clary sighed deeply. "Oh God, I must look terrible."

"You look beautiful." He smiled, wiping the last remnants of tears from her face. "But you look like you've been crying. Do you think you could text Luke? Tell him you're riding home with Alec and Isabelle. You can come to the house for a little while. I'm sure Izzy can fix tear stained cheeks."

"I hope so." She spoke as her fingers moved across the keys on her phone. "I hate going through the, "I can tell something's wrong," speech with my mom.""

He chuckled lightly and lifted her chin with his hand, pressing his lips softly to hers. He sucked lightly on her bottom lip as his hands caressed up and down her sides. She pulled him closer, deepening the kiss. All the tension that had built up over the last hour melted against his soft lips.

There was a sudden knock on the window. Clary's heart leapt into her throat, and she immediately broke the kiss. Jace whipped his head around to see Alec peeking into the tinted glass, a wide grin on his face.

He opened the door, "Am I interrupting something?"

**A/N: **We'll that's Clary's story. Jace's is coming next chapter! Thanks for reading! Reviews are great, just like _Romeo and Juliet! _


	9. Secrets and Shame

**Forgotten Angels**

_Disclaimer: The Mortal Instruments Trilogy and all affiliated characters belong to Cassandra Clare_

A/N: I really appreciate the reviews. They always encourage me to start writing that next chapter! This one is more background information. Hope you enjoy!

**Chapter 8: Secrets and Shame**

Isabelle led Clary to her upstairs bathroom. The white counter was cluttered with colorful makeup bottles, powders, lotions, massage oils and various soaps washes and scrubs. Jace was already there, sitting on the side of the white bathtub, waiting for them to arrive. "I think I can handle this one." Isabelle spat the words in his direction, still angry and confused about the conversation they had at lunch. "Here Clary." She tossed her a cool rag. "Wash your face. It's four shades of ketchup." A shiver ran down her spine, as the cold wet cloth touched her burning skin.

Jace got up from his seat and walked up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. "Come see me before you leave." He whispered, as he stole a kiss on Clary's cheek. A wide grin spread out across her face, and she nodded, gazing into the mirror. She couldn't help but notice how happy they looked together. She tried hard to remember that image. It would make a beautiful sketch one day. "At the end of the hall." He murmured, as he walked past the girls out of the small room.

"Well!" Isabelle exclaimed, shutting the door behind him. "Spill it Clary!"

"Spill what?" Clary asked, trying to sound innocent.

"Oh, don't give me that bullshit!" She shouted. "You know exactly what I'm talking about. What the hell is up with you and Jace? What were you doing with him _alone_ in Alec's car? Did he try to take advantage of you? Is that why you were crying?" Isabelle's expression was excruciatingly sincere and troubled. Clary couldn't understand how she could even think Jace, _her brother_, could be so disgustingly cruel.

"No _Mom_!" Clary cried in a belligerent tone. "If you must know, I was telling him about how my brother died." Her voice became quiet and grim. "It's not easy for me to talk about." She figured that was enough of the truth to keep Isabelle from asking any other questions.

"Oh." She sighed. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize to me Isabelle. Apologize to Jace for thinking he'd do such a horrible thing." The words were full of venom.

"I know it's horrible, but if you had seen the way he talked to Aline when she tried to come on to him, then you'd understand." She rummaged through her counter full of make up. "He actually said "Fuck or leave!" Can you believe that? He didn't even know her. I just assumed he was some kind of twisted sex freak."

"Or!" Clary interjected. "Maybe he just didn't like her."

"I don't know why he wouldn't." She said, finally selecting a compact full of pressed light powder. "She's hot, and shares my sense of fashion." A smug smile lit up her features, as she admired her lean body in the mirror. "Besides if he wasn't into her, he could have been nicer about it."

Clary snorted. "Since when does Jace do things the nice way?"

"I guess you have a point there." Isabelle replied, grabbing Clary's cast and pulling her closer. "This is the lightest makeup I own. I wore it for Halloween last year." She sniggered.

Clary rolled her eyes, "Well zombify me."

Isabelle giggled. "Clary, I was not a zombie! I was a vampire vixen."

Rolling laughter burst from her lips, "That sounds like a porno."

"Oh shut up and be still." She yelled, as she powdered Clary's red face. "You know," her tone was noticeably lighter, "I'm going shopping on Saturday morning before the party. You should come, let me pick out something for you to wear."

"Will I be your first redheaded Barbie doll?" Clary asked sarcastically.

Isabelle snickered. "Actually, yes. But, you should still come. It'll be fun. I can do your hair and makeup." Her voice trailed off.

"I don't know." Clary groaned. "I was just going to wear a t-shirt and some jeans."

"Jeez!" Isabelle huffed. "This is a party for twenty-somethings, not an audition for _Hannah Montana_. The goal is to look older than we are. It's going to be tough enough with that cast. Please don't dress like a twelve-year-old." Her tone was more pleading than condescending. "Besides don't you want to look like sex on a stick for your Jacey?"

Clary blushed under the makeup. It was embarrassing but true. She did want to look sexy for him. "Shut up!" She cried, pushing Isabelle away from her face. Checking in the mirror, she insured she still didn't look like she had been crying. Turning away from Isabelle, she stomped out of the room.

"But you're still coming shopping with me? Right?" Isabelle called down the hall.

"Yes!" Clary huffed, secretly hoping she could make her look sexy for Jace. The sound of Isabelle's uproarious laughter hit her ears, as she knocked lightly on his door.

"Get the fuck in here." He shouted from the other side, in a playful tone.

"Real charming bro'!" Alec's voice echoed down the hall.

Clary slowly turned the knob and walked in. She was surprised to see Jace sprawled out on his bed, his body completely still on the chocolate brown duvet. He had faint dark circles under his eyes. "Hey." She said sheepishly.

"Hey." He grinned, patting a spot beside him on the bed. Her eyes grew wide, as she gulped and made her way across the room. She hesitantly sat down beside him, and he wrapped his arm around her waist. Clary was nervous; her breathing was heavy and erratic. She had never been on a bed with a boy before, except for Simon, but that didn't count. He tightened his grip on her, urging her to lay down. So she did, gently falling into his arms, the cast wedged uncomfortably between them. The heat of his body made her tingle. He yawned loudly, arching his back to stretch. "I'm so fucking tired." He whispered.

"I'm sorry." She giggled. "That's my fault."

"Nah, it was my idea, and it's a good one. You in the mood for another secret rendezvous tonight?"

"You mean a meeting under the tree?" She asked.

"Yeah, I'll be over around midnight to help you out the window."

"Sounds good." She smiled, lacing their fingers together.

"Oh, and Clary."

"Yes?"

"You know how in the car today, I promised I'd protect you."

"Yes…?" She said curiously, unsure of where the conversation was going.

"I think I've figured out how I'm going to do that."

"Oh really? What did you have in mind?"

He hesitated. "Um… I was thinking that maybe I could…" He paused, taking a deep breath. "Spend the night?"

She snorted loudly. "Are you serious? At my house? There's no way!"

"Well, just hold the fuck on. I've been thinking about it. I'll set the alarm on my phone for five a.m. and leave before anyone wakes up. We can lock the door, and I'll sleep on that strip of floor between the bed and your window. That way if someone _does _get in, I'll have time to scramble under the bed."

"I don't know." She dropped his hand and rubbed her temples rhythmically. "It's risky. We'd be in so much trouble if we got caught."

"I know." He sighed, stroking her cheek with the back of his hand. "But I promised you, and this is all I've got so far. And you know what?" He asked in an excited voice.

"What?" She grinned.

"It'll be a lot of fucking fun."

She rolled her eyes and giggled. "You get off on this sneaking around shit? Don't you?"

"No." He chuckled, looking deeply into her eyes. His voice fell to a soft whisper. "It's _not_ the sneaking around that gets me off." His cheeks began to flush, and he buried his face in his hands. "That was stupid. Wasn't it?"

She laughed and draped her arm over his torso. "Yeah, kinda." He grinned and held her tighter, planting a soft kiss on her forehead. A loud sound echoed from downstairs; Clary wasn't sure what it was.

"Oh shit!" He exclaimed, forcing them into a sitting position. "Garage door! Maryse is home!"

Clary's eyes widened. "I'll go out the back!" She lifted herself from her comfortable spot on the bed. "Get some rest." She said in a pleading tone. "I'll see you later."

As she turned away, he stood up and grabbed her hand. He pulled her body close to his, wrapping her in a warm embrace. He licked his lips, and planted a soft sweet kiss on her lips. "Now, hurry! Don't get us caught already!" And with that Clary darted out the door and down the stairs. She grabbed her notebook from the kitchen table, and clicked the backdoor shut just as Maryse walked into the living room.

She jogged through the grass back to her house, and tried to collect herself before walking through the front door. "Hi there." Luke called, as she stepped over the threshold. "How was school?"

"Good." Clary said in a low breathy tone.

Luke shot her a wary glance. "Did you run the mile in P.E. today or something?"

"Yeah." She sighed, grateful he provided an excuse.

"Hmm…" He stroked his chin thoughtfully. His voice got low and quiet. "You must have run fast. Because the gym teacher just called and said he didn't see you in class today. He was worried that you were still in the hospital."

Clary's eyes grew wide, and her hands started to tremble. "Wh-what did you tell him?"

Luke's face became stern, as he pushed his glasses back up his nose. "I said you were home, but still not feeling well."

She sighed with relief. "Oh God, Luke thank you so much."

"You're just lucky your mother was out when he called." He took a deep breath. "I know you were with _him_ Clary, and I do _not_ want to know what you two were doing." She cringed at his insinuation. "But if you skip class again, it's over. If it had been anything other than P.E., I wouldn't have covered for you today." He put his arm around her shoulders. "I can't help you if you don't play by the rules. So go to class! Got it?"

"Got it." She replied, still trembling but grateful that Luke hadn't sold her out. "Thank you." She whispered. "It won't happen again."

"I know it won't." He said, his voice still deep and serious. "Now put on a good face for your mother. She's sitting at the kitchen table waiting for you."

Clary tried to gather her muddled frantic thoughts for her mother. She turned the corner into the dining area. "Hey mom." She said, in a less enthusiastic tone than she was aiming for.

"Hey Clary." Jocelyn grinned. "How was school?"

She put on a big fake smile. "It was great. Guess what?"

"What?" Jocelyn said, a hint of excitement in her voice.

"Isabelle invited me over this weekend."

"Oh." Her mother's eyes narrowed as she raked a wavy piece of red hair out of her eyes. "What do you two have planned?"

Clary tried to maintain her level of enthusiasm. "We're going shopping on Saturday. Then our friend Aline is having a little get-together. We'll probably be home late, so I guess we'll just go to her house and crash." That was close to the truth. Rave, small get-together, whatever.

Jocelyn smiled, "So you'll be out of the house most of the time?" Clary nodded, understanding that she really meant you won't be around Jace. "Well that sounds like fun. But this get-together, I trust there will be chaperones?"

Clary faked a giggle, "Of course mom, it won't be _all_ teenagers." That wasn't exactly a lie, but not exactly the truth either.

Her mother put her hand on her cast. "I'm just so glad you're making friends, and I'm sure you'll have a great time this weekend. It makes me so happy to see you happy." Clary felt horrible. Jocelyn wanted nothing more than for her to be content, and all she did was deceive her.

She couldn't bear looking at her anymore. "I'll just be in my room. I've got some homework to do."

"Okay, I'll call you for dinner." Her mother said. Clary nodded and hurried out of the room.

She spent some time studying geometry notes, and looking over a few terms from world history. When she was done, she opened her closet and was glad to see a few blankets stacked on the top shelf. She pulled an old duvet and one fuzzy green throw from the pile. She slid them underneath her bed, preparing for her night visitor.

The evening passed by in a slow haze. Once again, dinner was filled with uneasy small talk. Clary found it painful to watch everyone trying to act normal. But it didn't make sense to panic either. Nothing really made sense anymore. She excused herself early from dinner, and strolled slowly to her room to lay down. Opening her drawer, she found her Ipod and tucked the two white buds in her ears. Scrolling through her play list, she searched for something relaxing. She finally settled on Jack Johnson, closing her eyes, she let the music take her thoughts to a more peaceful place.

Her eyes fluttered open at nine. She stretched her stiff body, and scooted off of the bed. Bending down to the floor, she dug frantically through her suitcase. She never really worried about what she slept in before, but tonight was different. He was coming, and she knew it. So whatever she wore, he'll know she meant for him to see it. He liked the satin and lace she had on the previous night, but she didn't want him to think she was a slut. But on the other hand, she didn't want him to think she was a prude either.

Since they were going outside, she decided to wear a pair of blue and white plaid pajama pants with a low cut , thin, white, spaghetti strap shirt. It was a compromise, no leg in exchange for a lot of chest, not that she had a lot of chest to show off. She found a pair of black flip-flops and laid them on the floor by the window.

When she was finally satisfied that she was prepared for the night, she stepped outside the door. Luke and her mother were making their way to the bedroom…together. Clary hadn't really thought about it before, but they were sleeping in the same room. She shook off the uncomfortable feelings. Friends shared a bed sometimes. Didn't they? "Good night." She whispered as they made their way down the hall.

"Night kid." Luke said, in a playful tone.

"Good night sweet heart." Jocelyn smiled. "I love you."

"Love you too mom." Clary replied, as she closed her door, and turned the lock. She jiggled the handle just to make sure. Diving into her ocean blue bed, she let out a deep sigh. Excitement and anticipation coursed through her veins. It took nearly an hour for her to fall asleep.

A quiet tap on her window woke her from her light slumber. Her heart leapt into her throat; she wanted to squeal. Rolling out of bed, she tried her best to step lightly across the hardwood floor. She eased the curtains back, revealing a familiar silhouette standing in the moonlight. His white teeth showed a big grin through the darkness. Sliding on her shoes, she opened the window and started to step out. Just as he had the night before, he put his hands on her sides, guiding her outside. He took her hand, and they walked silently through the wet grass to their meeting spot under the willow. She saw the same blanket laid out under the tree.

They took a seat, and finally began to speak. He shifted nervously. "Well today was interesting."

Clary nodded, "Yeah, lunch, the car. It's been kinda crazy." She paused to think about what Luke had said. "By the way, we can't skip class anymore. The gym teacher called Luke. He thought I was still in the hospital. Luke covered for me, but he said that was the last time."

"Oh." Jace lowered his head. "I'm sorry if I got you in trouble."

"No." She smiled. "You didn't. We just can't do it again. But I really needed that this afternoon. It felt good to tell someone. I just hated putting all my ridiculous burdens on you."

"Fuck Clary." He raked his fingers through his hair. "Don't talk like that. I want you to tell me everything. You don't have to hide shit from me because it's _unpleasant_."

"Thank you. You know, Jace." She hesitated. "You can tell me anything too."

"I don't know Clary." His face turned grim. "There are things in my past I just don't want you to know."

"Don't you trust me?" Clary asked.

"Of course I do!" He interjected. "It's just," He searched his brain frantically for the right words. "It's so terrible, and I'm ashamed."

"You shouldn't be ashamed of things that happened to you as a child. Whatever it was, it wasn't your fault. And as for it being terrible, well you don't have to hide shit from me because it's _unpleasant_." She annunciated the words just as he had. "Please." She pleaded. "I shared my burdens with you."

He sighed deeply, "You have to promise me something."

"Anything." She replied.

"You won't treat me any differently after I tell you. I don't want any pity, or you worrying about hurting my feelings or any ridiculous shit like that."

Her expression faded into a frown. "Jace, nothing about your past is going to change how I feel about you."

"All right." He took a deep breath. She noticed his hands were trembling, so she took one them into hers, stroking the back of it with her thumb trying to soothe him. "My parents died in a car crash when I was six-months-old. They were kind of young and wild, not even twenty yet." Clary shuddered, but he continued. "One of my father's old friend's became a foster parent, just so he could take me in. I lived with him until I was ten." She couldn't help but notice that he looked scared and vulnerable for the first time since she'd known him. It was so strange seeing fear in his eyes.

"Tell me about him." She insisted.

He clutched her hand tighter. "He was so fucking bitter. He had a family once, but they left him, not long before he took me in."

"Alec said he was an ex-military guy?"

"No." Jace replied. "Not exactly. He tried to get into the military, but he couldn't pass the psychiatric evaluations. He was too _unstable_ for combat. But he was engrossed by the military lifestyle. The man would stay up all fucking night reading these thick volumes of military history. He was very intelligent, but so fucking deranged. It was a bad combination."

"Why was he so interested in the military?"

"He liked lots of things about it. He appreciated the regimented disciplined lifestyle. That's how he ran his house. Also," He spoke like the next sentence was an inconsequential afterthought, "he was particularly fascinated with methods of torture and mind control."

"Oh." Clary's voice was shaky. "What was it like living with him?"

"Fucking horrible!" Jace shouted. "He was insane. He was the leader of this group called the Shadow Hunters. Stupid isn't it?" She nodded in agreement. "People followed him like he was God or something; it was disgusting."

Clary looked confused. "The Shadow Hunters? What was that?"

"They were this paramilitary organization he founded, nothing more than Neo-Nazi posers if you ask me."

"Oh they were white supremacists then? She asked.

"Yeah, they believed in the racial purification of America or some ridiculous shit. It was for useless mother fuckers with an out of control sense of self-entitlement. They were failures, and needed someone to blame for all their problems. You know the funny thing about it?"

"What?"

"Until I was adopted, I believed all their bullshit. I got suspended from school in the third grade for breaking an Asian kid's nose. He didn't even do anything to me. I just remember feeling so superior, so much better than him because I was white. I didn't think he should be allowed to live." He sighed. "Fucked up, isn't it?"

Clary's eyes were wide, "Seriously." She shifted uneasily beside him.

"Is this upsetting you?"

She didn't really answer the question. "I just think it's terrible."

"Yeah it _is_ awful, but that's how he operated, always finding someone else to pin his problems on. When it came to the group it was Jews, Blacks and Asians." His voice grew solemn. "At home, it was me."

"What did he do to you, Jace?" Clary's voice shook with fear. Her curious mind wanted more information, but her breaking heart was pleading for him to stop.

"He beat the shit out of me every damn day. Always on my torso, thighs and upper arms where the cuts, burns and bruises wouldn't show. Everything was my fault. I was the reason he was unhappy; I was the reason he drank everyday; I was the reason he had no family; I was nothing but a piece of shit orphan who no one gave a damn about." He hesitated. "One time, he shackled me in the basement for three days with no food, until the chains cut a half inch into my skin." A twisted smile danced on his lips. "He said he was building character, making a man out of me. He did it so I would be the best, and that's what he expected of me…perfection."

Clary felt like her heart was going to burst. She felt so horrible for Jace, but was afraid to show him pity. She knew he didn't want it. "But you were with him for nearly a decade. Did he not once tell you he loved you?"

"No Clary, he didn't. He said love makes people weak and irrational. He always used to scream about _loving that bitch and look where it got him_."

"I'm so sorry he hurt you." Clary whispered.

"God don't fucking feel sorry for me."

"Shut up Jace." She shouted. "I don't think any less of you because of what happened. It's just that I care about you, and I hate that someone hurt you."

He smiled, "That's my girl." Her heart fluttered at his words. He'd never called her _his girl _before.

"What?" She giggled. "You like it when I yell at you?"

"Not just the yelling." He chuckled. "You're different; you don't fucking walk on eggshells around me. I try to act like some smug asshole, but you see right through it."

"Why do you want to act that way?" She asked, her eyes full of concern.

"Jesus." He groaned. "Clary, I'm losing all my dignity for you. This is going to sound like the lamest shit ever." His voice was verging on anger.

"Just spit it out!" She shouted.

"I don't want to be hurt again." His tone had lost all it's edge. He sounded utterly defeated. It was heartbreaking, but Clary understood. His one true childhood role model lied to him and broke him down until he felt utterly worthless. How was he meant to trust anyone else?

"Why did you open up to me so quickly?"

"I tried to hide the way I felt about you Clary; I really tried. But you're so fucking sweet and understanding. You didn't fall for my bullshit, not for one second, and I knew it. After you got hurt, there was really no hope. You needed me, and helping you was a hell of a lot more important than my stupid façade."

"It's not stupid." She cried. "I understand why you act the way you do…or did." She smiled.

"I'm glad you do, because apparently it escaped the grasp of every therapist I've ever been to. But I guess that's my fault too, I never opened up to any of them. I've been on every medication known to man. Some of them made me depressed, very depressed. Maryse was worried that I'd try something stupid."

"You mean hurt yourself?" Clary asked. Her voice trembling with worry.

"Yeah I don't take anything now, but that's why they sent me to the "special hospital," as Isabelle so quaintly put it at lunch today."

"It's all right." She hesitated. "She said things about me today that I wasn't too happy about either."

He looked confused. "What are you talking about?"

"All that crap about how I'm so sweet and innocent."

He chuckled, "Clary you _are_ sweet and innocent, and it's not a bad thing. I don't think Izzy even meant it in a bitchy way. I like that about you." He touched her cheek with his hand. "Being a virgin isn't anything to be ashamed of."

She knocked his hand away angrily. "How do _you_ know I'm a virgin?"

"Aren't you a virgin?" He stumbled over his words. "N-not that it matters to me."

"Yes." She huffed. "I am."

He took her in his arms, "I'm glad." He whispered.

"Are you?" Clary's voice was ominous.

His heart began to pound. He took a deep breath. "I'm sorry Clary."

"So I guess that means no." She tried to hide her anger. "Who was it? Do I know her?"

He raked his fingers through his hair, and sighed loudly. "Aline." His voice was full of remorse.

Her stomach twisted itself into a thousand knots. "What!" Clary screamed. "I was under the impression that you gave her a pretty nasty rejection. According to Isabelle, you told her to "Fuck or leave."

"That's true. I didn't like her, not at all. I was just trying to get her to leave me alone. I never actually thought she'd fucking agree to it. It happened between classes, only lasted five minutes, under the stairs in the gym. I didn't even take my shirt off."

"That's disgusting." She spat the words. Even Aline was too ashamed to tell Isabelle about it.

"I never spoke to her again." His tone was pleading.

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"Clary." He sighed. "This was months ago. If I had known you were coming, I would _never_ have done it. Actually, I'm not sure why I did it anyway. I'm really sorry Clary." He wasn't sure why he was apologizing for something he did before he knew her, but it felt appropriate.

"As much as I want to," she groaned, "I guess I can't be mad at you for that. We didn't know each other then." She tried hard to stifle the feelings of rage and jealousy that brewed inside her. She didn't want Jace to treat her like Aline. But Clary thought she was special, thought she knew him in all the ways that no one else did. That wasn't true. He'd given a part of himself to Aline that she could never have. She could never be the first person he made love to. It broke her heart, and she couldn't even be angry at him for it. "I think I'm ready for bed." She whispered.

"Damn it Clary, are you mad at me?"

"No." She said angrily.

"Don't lie." He shouted.

She sighed loudly. "I'm just upset."

"Do you want to talk about it?" He spoke in his most understanding voice.

"No."

"Well fuck." He pulled his arms away from her. "Let's go to bed then."

"Fine." She huffed, in a manner curiously reminiscent of her mother. She stood up and stomped back to her house, Jace following close behind.

She climbed through the window without his help and looked annoyed when he stepped into her room. She forgot about the _plan_. It crossed her mind to send him away, but she didn't have the heart to do it. As disappointed as she was, she still wanted him there. Leaning down, she pulled the blankets out from under her bed and spread them out on the ground. Neither of them said a word. She tossed one of the pillows from her bed on to the floor. He sat down, took his cell phone out of his pocket and laid it beside him. Clary crawled under the blue duvet, and tried to slow her racing thoughts. Tonight had almost been too much for her. First it was Jace's father who was some sort of crazy cult leader. Then it was the abuse, the therapists and the medication. Then why he wore the grim mask, and how she helped him shed it. Last of course was the unexpected bomb, Aline. How could he have had sex with her? She tossed and turned for a long time, tangling her pajama pants uncomfortably around her legs.

Finally Jace sat up on the floor. "Are you okay?" He whispered softly through the darkness.

She slid over to that side of the bed. "I'm fine."

"No you're not Clary." He reached out to her, and she begrudgingly took his hand. "For what's it worth," he murmured, "What I had with her was empty and meaningless. You're worth so much more than that. Even though I know I don't fucking deserve you, I hope…" He hesitated. "One day you'll let me be the one to show you how amazing you really are."

All the uneasy knots in her stomach released. The thick tension and worry that hung on her shoulders, like heavy weights, started to float away. She wanted to respond, but she didn't know what to say. His innocent sincerity was overwhelming. She squeezed his hand tightly, and settled back into bed. Her weary head hit the pillow, and she fell into a deep restful slumber.

**A/N:** Well that's Jace's screwed up past. I hope that explains why he's so mean most of the time. Thanks for reading. Reviews are hotter than vampire vixens!


	10. The Ties That Bind

**Forgotten Angels**

_Disclaimer: The Mortal Instruments Trilogy and all affiliated characters belong to Cassandra Clare_

A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews! Some of them are just unbelievably kind! This is probably going to be a long one! There's so much I want to accomplish with this chapter. Clary's about to have a rough day. Hope you enjoy!

**Chapter 9: The Ties That Bind**

The quiet alarm on his phone buzzed beside his ear. Jace's eyes fluttered open. He looked around, a heavy sense of dread fell upon him. His chest felt tight, like he couldn't breathe. Where the fuck am I? He thought. Then he felt something loosely clutched in his hand. He looked hard through the darkness, trying to see in the faint moonlight . He could barely make out the pale arm dangling off the side of the bed and the small hand he was grasping in his palm.

The previous night's events suddenly came rushing back to him. He and Clary sat under the willow, and he told her about his past, about his father and about what he had done with _Aline_. He could hardly bear to think her name. He knew Clary was angry about what he had happened, but he couldn't offer her an adequate excuse. He wanted to tell her he felt worthless and disgusting for fucking that slut, but the right words eluded him. As much as he hated hurting her, deep down he knew she'd understand. Clary always understood.

A quiet groan escaped his lips as he lifted his stiff body from the hardwood floor. He stretched his sore limbs and folded the blankets quickly, trying to get out as fast as possible. He was terrified of waking someone and ruining the _plan_. It was uncomfortable, but sleeping close to her made it more than worth the mild pain.

Just as he was about to climb out the window, he stole one final glance at Clary's sleeping frame. Her light skin glowed in the moonlight. She slumbered peacefully on her back, the serene expression of an angel on her face. He couldn't help but notice the smooth bumps of flesh and stiff pink peaks showing through her thin white top. A strong desire, that had laid dormant for years, awakened deep inside of him. Licking his lips, his heart began to pound. Longing to touch her, to kiss her, to feel her warm body against his, he was immediately aroused. His jeans suddenly felt uncomfortably tight. How could she ever be jealous of Aline? He touched her arm lightly with his fingertips; electricity coursed through his veins. She stirred and moaned sleepily. His breath hitched. He reached out to touch her again, but he heard the creaking of a bed in the other room.

Startled, he turned and nearly dove out the open window. He sprinted back across the yard to his house and crept silently through the backdoor. He cringed as the stairs creaked under each one of his steps. Finally he reached the landing. His heart sank when he noticed a thick strip of light streaking out from under the bathroom door. The toilet flushed; he had to run. He had only taken two frantic bounds when the door flew open. He froze dead in his tracks. Alec walked out in a sleepy haze. "Jace?" He whispered squinting in the dark. "What are you doing?" A loud yawn roared from his lips.

"Nothing." Jace replied weakly.

Alec's weary eyes started to adjust. He noticed Jace wasn't in his usual boxers and white undershirt, but instead he wore his school clothes, jeans and a t-shirt . Then he saw _it_, the unfortunate bulge in the front of his pants. A wry smile lit up Alec's face, "Glad to see me, bro'?"

His cheeks flushed bright red. "It's not for you." Jace spat the words. Embarrassed, he skulked off to his room, Alec chuckling behind him. He shut the door, relieved to finally be alone. He unbuttoned his jeans and kicked them off his legs to the floor. Climbing into bed, he tried to close his eyes and sleep, but he wasn't tired anymore. All he could think about was how soft her skin was, how delicious her tongue tasted in his mouth, and how good it felt to hold her in his bed that afternoon. He had to subdue the burning passion that now raged inside of him. His hand traveled down his lean muscular body. He thought of the purple lingerie, and what it would be like when the thin straps fell down her shoulders, when his eager tongue drifted under the lace, when his fingers slowly caressed higher and higher up her smooth thigh. His fantasies were rich and colorful, imagining every tiny detail of her body with an artist's precision. It only took a minute. Exhausted but satisfied, he relaxed, letting his head fall softly to the pillow. He drifted off into a deep dreamy sleep.

There was a thunderous frantic banging on her bedroom door. "Clary!" The voice shouted, full of angry panic. "Open the damn door! Right now!" Her heart leapt with fear, as her eyes shot open. The blue room was dimly lit with the faint glow of the morning sun. The locked door vibrated under the pressure of the furious knocks. Her mind went right to Jace. She rolled over quickly, scanning the floor where he had slept. Relief washed over her; he was gone, the blankets neatly folded by the window. "Clarissa Fairchild!" She finally recognized the terrified voice as her mother's.

"I'm coming, mom." She called back, as she walked across the icy hardwood floor. The lock clicked, and the door flew open, nearly knocking her down. "Jeez!" She huffed. "Are we running late or something?" Her voice trailed off as she eyed her mother's frantic expression. Jocelyn's face was creased with intense panic, her eyes alight with terror. Stray tears flowed down her mother's porcelain cheeks. "Oh my God, Mom! What's wrong?"

"Clary," she began to sob, "the police just called."

Her eyes grew wide. "What did they say? Did they arrest him or something?"

"No." Her voice was barely a whisper. "There was a" she hesitated, trying to push back the lump in her throat, "a murder."

Clary's chin nearly hit the floor. Her muddled thoughts raced through a thousand horrible possibilities. "Who?" Was all she could say.

Jocelyn pushed her tangled red hair out of her face. "Madame Dorothea."

She let out a deep sigh of relief. Clary knew it was terrible, but she was thankful that it wasn't anyone close to her who was hurt. She furrowed her brows, suddenly confused by her mother's sorrow. "The psychic lady who lives in the apartment below us?" Jocelyn nodded. "Hmm… you would think she'd have seen it coming."

"Clary!" Her mother shouted. "This is serious. The police found her stabbed to death in the stairwell. Her apartment was undisturbed, but _ours _was ransacked."

"Oh." Suddenly distressed, her eyes fell to the ground. "The murderer wasn't looking for her. Was he?" Her stomach churned with nauseous fear.

"No." Jocelyn whispered.

Tears began to form in Clary's eyes. "There wasn't anything in the apartment was there?" She forced back the lump in her throat. "Anything that would lead him here, to us?"

"No, sweet heart." Her mother reached out to Clary and wrapped her in a reassuring embrace. "We're being careful. Luke and I haven't even used a credit card since we got here. You just need to keep your eyes open. I don't want you to go anywhere alone." Clary nodded. "I just feel so bad." Jocelyn sobbed. "That old woman was murdered, and it was all my fault!"

Clary sighed inwardly. Here we go again, she had to be the rational adult. "Mom, it's not your fault." Her voice was pleading. "You were just trying to take care of your family."

"No!" She cried. "I should have warned her."

"If you'll recall, we left in a bit of a hurry, in the middle of the night. We were frantic; there was no time to explain the entire complicated story to her. Valentine didn't even know her. You had no idea that he would kill a complete stranger."

"Yes, Clary. I did! He's horrible; you have no idea how cold he is. He'd do anything to get to me." She spoke softly through her flowing tears. "He's obsessive and now what he wants more than anything is revenge…against me. That poor old woman meant nothing to him." Her voice faded into a quiet sob. "She was just collateral damage."

Luke turned the corner slowly, and walked up beside Jocelyn. He draped his arm over her shoulder, pulling her tight to his chest. Her messy red hair looked like fire splayed out against his white t-shirt. He held her close, as he looked up at Clary. "How you doin, kid?"

"I'm all right." Clary replied, trying to fake a smile.

"I'll take care of your mom, why don't you go get ready for school?"

"Are you sure?" She asked. "I can stay here with her."

"No, sulking around the house isn't going to help anything. I think she would like it if you went to school." Jocelyn nodded against his chest. "Do you think you could catch a ride with the Lightwoods?"

Under any other circumstances, that would have made her happy but not today. As much as she tried to convince her mother that the murder wasn't their fault, she knew that if Madame Dorothea had never met her family then she'd still be alive. Life really wasn't fair in that way. One person's struggle for survival lead to another's violent demise. She hung her head. "I'll call Isabelle." She murmured, as she walked to the bathroom.

After her shower, Clary went to her to room and dialed Jace. It rang nearly seven times before he answered. "Hello." His voice was quiet and sleepy.

"Hey. I'm sorry. Did I wake you?" She wondered, her tone lacking her usual bright enthusiasm.

He immediately sensed the distress in her voice. "Nah, I was awake." That was a lie. "You all right?" He asked, his voice full of concern.

"Yeah, we'll talk about it later. Okay?"

He suddenly became worried, "All right." He sighed. "Is it about us?"

"No." She reassured him. "It's my father." She murmured the words under her breath.

"Oh fuck. I'm sorry. Is it serious?" His voice was starting to shake. He was terrified for her, worried she was in trouble.

"Yeah, kinda. I'll have to explain later."

"Okay, is that why you called?"

"No." She sighed. "Do you think Alec could give me a ride to school this morning?"

"Yeah, but he leaves early on Fridays, student council meeting or some shit like that."

"Oh all right. What time?"

He scratched his head. "About seven fifteen, so can you be here in twenty minutes?"

"Yeah." Her tone was lifeless and miserable.

Very alarmed, he was suddenly anxious to talk to her. "You want me to pick you up?"

"I'd like that, but I don't want to risk it… not today."

"You're probably right." He groaned. "But hey, I'll leave early too, we'll talk before school." His tone was optimistic.

She didn't return his enthusiasm. "All right." She muttered, as her thumb hit the end button.

Clary dried her hair quickly and pulled a black t-shirt over her head. Mourning colors, it felt appropriate. She walked across the wet grass to the Lightwoods. Cool morning fog laid heavy over the ground. Alec was waiting on her, leaning against the hood of his purring Honda. "Hurry up Clary! I gotta get a move on." She tried to walk faster, but her legs felt stiff and tired. When she reached him, he opened his door and pushed the seat forward. Isabelle was sitting in the passenger seat, an annoyed look on her face. Clary tossed her notebook into the floorboard and climbed into the backseat. "Are you all right?" He asked, concerned by her lack cheerfulness.

"I'm fine." She sighed. "Just tired. Thanks for the ride by the way."

"No problem." He replied, as he moved the gearshift into reverse.

"Well good morning to you _too_ Clary!" Isabelle shouted in a sarcastic tone.

"Oh I'm sorry Isabelle, good morning."

"What the hell is up with her?" Isabelle spat, to no one in particular.

"Go easy on Clary." Alec interjected. "I think she had a late night last night."

"Oh really?" Isabelle said, her tone suddenly curious. "And what would make you think that?"

"Well," Alec hesitated. "I went to the bathroom around five this morning, and I caught Jace sneaking back into the house. He had on regular clothes and…" He hesitated, chuckling loudly. "He was um…pitchin' quite a trouser tent." Clary blushed a fiery red; she couldn't hold back a tiny wry smile. That was right after he left her room. _She _must have gotten him aroused. It was strangely encouraging news.

"Oh God!" Isabelle burst into laughter. "I really don't want to hear about Jace's morning wood."

"No, stupid!" Alec shouted. "Don't you see? He was with Clary."

"Clary!" She yelled through boisterous giggles. "Was he at your house last night?"

"Yeah." She sighed, not in the mood to lie. "But it's not what you think. He slept on my floor."

"You made him sleep on the floor?" Isabelle cackled mockingly. "And then sent him home with a raging case of blue balls. You're a terrible girlfriend." As much as she hated the derisive comment, Clary's heart fluttered when she heard the word _girlfriend. _

"Oh shut up Isabelle!" Alec yelled. "Not everyone's legs are open for business twenty-four hours a day." She scowled fiercely at her brother.

"I was asleep when he left." Clary replied, trying to hide the sudden hint of excitement in her voice.

"Don't worry about it Clary." Alec snickered devilishly. "From the way his bed was shaking against the wall, I don't think the pain lasted long."

"Ew!" Isabelle exclaimed. "God, I've washed his sheets before. That is so disgusting!" Alec pulled the car to a stop in the school parking lot beside Jace's black motorcycle. She flung her door open quickly. "I've _got _to get the hell out of his car!"

"Morning Izzy." Jace called in a polite tone, leaning against a tree on the edge of the lot.

"Shit!" She screamed. "I can't look at you right now!" She turned and stomped off towards the building.

Jace furrowed his brows in confusion. "Well fuck, the _one_ time I try to be nice to that girl…"

Alec snickered under his breath, as she pulled the seat forward for Clary. "Don't worry about it bro'."

Clary began to lift herself off the seat when Jace suddenly stepped in front of the door. He put his hand out, motioning for her to stop. "Just stay there." His tone was worried and pleading. "We'll talk." He faked a smile and turned to Alec. "I've got the spare key. I'll lock up."

Alec's eyes grew wide. "Please!" He begged. "Just talk! I don't want to have to replace the upholstery."

Jace rolled his eyes, as he climbed into the backseat beside Clary. "Get the fuck out of here." Alec grinned, and turned to hurry into the building. He was already late.

Jace scooted close to Clary, draping his arm over her shoulder. "Now, you're scaring the fuck out of me Clary." His eyes were pleading. "Please tell me what the fuck is going on."

She groaned and cuddled into his side. "The police called this morning." Her tone was grim. "The old lady that lives in the apartment below us was stabbed to death last night."

"Oh God!" He cried. "Did you know her?"

"No, not really." She whispered. "But the bad thing is, they found her body in the stairwell. The murderer didn't even break into her apartment."

"So what are you saying?" He asked curiously. "He just killed her for the hell of it?"

"No." Clary interjected. "Our apartment was completely destroyed. She must have heard him up there and walked into the stairwell to investigate. He wasn't after her." She hesitated, trying to stifle a rising sob. "He was after us."

He wrapped his arms around her tightly, as her tears began to flow. He couldn't hardly believe what he she had said. It had to be a mistake. "Maybe it wasn't him." He whispered. "It could just be some fucked up coincidence."

"Cut the bullshit Jace! You know it's not. Valentine killed that woman!" Her words were filled with pure rage.

"Who?" Jace asked, an absurd notion flickering behind his eyes.

"My father!" She continued, her voice frantic. "It's our fault she ran into that sadistic asshole. I feel terrible." Her voice faded into a quiet sob.

He stroked her back with his palm. "Clary, I'm sorry. Please don't fucking beat yourself up about this. Feeling guilty will only make you miserable, and it won't bring her back. The only person who's at fault here is the fucking murderer."

"My father." She corrected.

"Yeah., that's what seems to be going on." He hesitated, thoughts racing through his sleepy mind. "What did you say his name was again?"

"Valentine." She sighed. "What does it matter?"

"And his last name was Fairchild?"

"No, that's my mother's maiden name. He was a Morgenstern." Jace's eyes grew wide. His entire body began to tremble. "Jace." She murmured. "Are you all right?" She pulled away from his embrace to see his eyes. She recognized that look. It was fear.

He gulped. His heart was pounding. "Clary." He whispered.

"Jace!" She was starting to panic. "God, tell me what's wrong?"

"There's just no fucking way." His eyes were distant, staring out the window. "It couldn't be."

"What are you talking about?" She pleaded with him.

"My foster father." His voice was calm and emotionless. "His name was Valentine Morgenstern."

"No!"

"Yes." He insisted. "It's not a common name."

"What was your real dad's last name?" Clary asked, completely baffled.

"Wayland."

"Shit!" She screamed. "I know I've heard my mother say that name before."

"So it's true then." He sighed deeply, trying to wrap his mind around the sudden revelation. The two of them were more connected than they had ever imagined. "Don't you see? That's why your mother hates me. She thinks I'm like him. I just can't fucking believe Maryse never told me."

"You're not like him." She whimpered, as large tears rolled down her cheeks. A thousand emotions fell on her like bricks from the sky. Anger towards her mother burned intensely in her soul. How could she not tell her Jace was Valentine's foster son? How could she think he was like him? How could Jocelyn be such a coward, that she was too afraid to confront the little boy Valentine raised? On top of those feelings, Clary's was scared that this would change things between she and Jace, that he would hate her for being connected to him, for being biologically related to his cruel tormenter. She tried to hold back the sobs. "How do you feel about that?" She asked hesitantly.

He sat silently for a long time, the wheels of his mind turning furiously. A serene grin suddenly spread out across his face. "Amazing."

"What?" She shouted. "Jace! The crazy fucker who's looking for us is connected to you too. We're both in danger!"

"Maybe." He sighed. "But all my life, I wondered why it happened to me, why I had to be the one he hurt, why I had to suffer. I thought God hated me. But that wasn't it. It all makes perfect fucking sense now."

"What are you talking about?" She spoke softly through her tears.

"If your mother hadn't left him, then he would have never adopted me. You would have been the one he hurt all those years. That's why I suffered, so you didn't have to." He felt lighter, like a weight he'd been carrying on his back for his entire life was finally gone.

Loud sobs erupted from her lips. "Oh my God Jace! I'm sorry." She cried. "I'm so sorry. I wish it had been me."

Anger flared in his eyes. "Damn it Clary! Don't you ever fucking say that! The thought of anything happening to you makes me fucking sick."

"Well then how the hell do you think it makes me feel to see you hurt?" Her face contorted into a miserable grimace. "It fucking kills me Jace!" Her heart was breaking, first the old woman, now him. Did everyone have to suffer for her? He wiped the tears from her cheeks. "I really care about you." She whispered.

"I care about you too." The words were calm and quiet. "I've only known you a few days, and I care more about you than I ever have anyone in my entire life." He sighed. "It's strange. I'm bad at it."

She furrowed her brows, unsure of what he meant. "Bad at what?"

"Bad at caring."

She giggled and wrapped her arms around his neck, her cast resting heavily on his shoulder. "Shut up." She shouted playfully. "You've taken care of me since the first time I saw you."

"When you came over for dinner? Clary, I was an asshole that night."

"Yes you were. But no, I meant even before that."

"What?" He looked confused. "But that was the first time we met."

"Yeah." She flashed a sly smile. "But that wasn't the first time I saw you. When we first got to Idris in the middle of the night, I saw the light on in your window. I saw you too, but of course I didn't know who you were then. I was terrified; I didn't want to go to sleep. But I saw your glowing window, and I felt like you were watching over me. I know it was ridiculous; you were probably up studying or something."

"No." He smiled. "I heard Luke's truck." He hung his head. "Sometimes after Valetine had been out drinking, he'd pull me out of bed late at night and hit me with…" His voice trailed off. Clary didn't want to hear anymore. "Anyway, I'm a light sleeper, and it kind of startled me. No one had been in that house for years."

A wry smile danced on her lips. "So you _were_ watching us?"

"Yeah kinda. Is that creepy?"

"No." She giggled. "It helped me sleep."

"I'm glad." He planted a long soft kiss on her forehead. "This is so fucking crazy. Isn't it?"

"Yeah." She agreed, stroking his cheek with the back of her hand.

"I just don't want you to feel bad about Valentine. I'm glad things worked out the way they did. You don't deserve that kind of life Clary. He seriously fucked me up; I can't deny that. But you're putting me back together." He ran his fingers through her soft hair. "A little more everyday." New tears poured from her eyes. "And in the end," he whispered, "these fucked up circumstances brought us together."

"But this changes everything!" She interjected. "He knows you. You could be in danger too."

"Nothing has changed Clary. How many fucking times do we have to go through this? I am going to protect you. It doesn't matter if I know him or not."

"Are you afraid of him?" She asked, worry creasing her face.

"Terrified out of my fucking mind, but I can take care of myself now. I'm not a little boy anymore Clary."

"No." She touched his chest with her fingertips; looking into his deep blue eyes. "You're a man." The words were a sultry whisper.

He thought of last night, the stiff pink peaks and his lacey purple fantasies. He was immediately overcome with the same burning desire, only stronger, a thousand times stronger. And he wasn't alone in his dark bedroom, but with her, just the two of them, the tinted windows hiding their secret. In that moment, he wanted her more than he'd ever wanted anything in his entire life.

He placed his hand on her cheek and guided her lips to his. Her eyes automatically fluttered closed. His kiss was eager, full of deep longing. He took her bottom lip into his mouth, sucking it gently, while his fingers rubbed up and down her sides. Her anxious tongue dove to meet his, and he groaned. Her mouth tasted deliciously sweet, like peppermint. He relished every caress of her tongue, but he longed to explore her body.

Moving from her lips; he planted soft kisses along her jaw line. Her body on fire, she leaned her head back on the seat, heart pounding against her chest. She arched her back, instinctively pressing her breasts against him, savoring his every touch. She was practically dripping, desperately needing to be closer. She ran her hands up and down his hard strong body, feeling the thick muscles in his back. He kissed slowly down her neck, his lips caressing every inch of exposed flesh. His chin pushed her t-shirt lower and lower, as his tongue traced along her collarbones.

An intense moan escaped her lips, and he suddenly jerked her from the seat, pulling her limp body into his lap. She felt it against her leg. He was aroused, a large bulge in his jeans twitching under her. She shuddered, her body tingling all over. His hands snaked up her shirt. She felt his fingertips on her bare stomach, like sparks of electricity, as his face buried into her neck. She tangled her fingers into the choppy blonde hair she had drawn so many times and pulled lightly at first, then harder. The mild surge of pain excited him. "Fuck." He said, letting out a deep breathy groan, as he started to writhe underneath her. He rocked rhythmically against her leg, his hands moving ever higher up her ribcage. His fingertips felt the bottom of her bra. She arched her back, begging him to touch her. He took her breasts in his hands, feeling the stiff peaks rise through the lacey fabric.

Clary's eyes suddenly shot open. It was as if someone had pressed pause on a movie. She critically scanned her surroundings. They were alone in the backseat of someone else's car. The roar of engines surrounded them, the sick mechanical smell of exhaust seeping in through the barely cracked front window. Her stomach began to violently churn. "I can't." She whispered, pushing his hands from under her shirt.

He removed them immediately, a look of heartbreaking shock on his face. "Clary, I thought…" He raked his fingers anxiously through his messy golden hair. "I thought you were enjoying yourself."

"I was." She sighed. "This, this just can't happen this way."

"What way?" Jace asked, his eyes pleading.

"You're not gonna fuck me in the back of Alec's car in the school parking lot. God, I'm not Aline!" Her voice was full of exasperation. She moved off his lap, to sit in the seat by his side. Looking down, she could see that he was still aroused. "I'm sorry. I just can't… not here."

He sighed deeply. "No, it's my own fucking fault. I promised you last night that I would show you how amazing you are. This is wrong. You were fucking upset, and I shouldn't have even tried anything."

"It's all right." She murmured, taking his hand lovingly into hers. "I wanted it too."

"Shit." He exclaimed, looking at the time on the dashboard. "We're fucking ten minutes late already" She moved to climb over the seat, but he pushed her back. "Clary! I can't fucking go in like this." He eyed his protruding zipper.

She giggled and dropped his hand. "It'll probably be better if we walk in separately anyway."

"You're right." He nodded. "Go on. I'll see you at lunch." She smiled and started to move again. "Come here." He sighed, pulling her back once more. This time, to kiss her lips softly before he let her leave. The car door closed with a clank. He sat there alone in the backseat, staring out the window as she walked away. "Shit." He murmured, burying his face in hands.

Jace was terribly confused. How could something that physically felt so incredible, so sexy and so right be so emotionally wrong and horrible? He wanted her more than anything, but he knew he couldn't do that with Clary, not in the backseat of a car. How could he have been so stupid? She actually said, _"I'm not Aline."_ Those words cut deep; they made him sick to his stomach. She honestly believed she was on the same level as that slut. _He_ made her feel that way. _He_ made their first intimate moments dirty and uncomfortable. It just proved the point he tried explaining to her earlier; he _was_ bad at caring.

Clary walked slowly into the building, unsure of how to feel. The morning had been such a strange mix of overwhelming emotion. She mourned the death of a near stranger. Then she found that she and Jace were connected, bound together by a vicious madman. She knew it wasn't her fault, but she felt terrible, like Jace's troubled childhood was really hers, and somehow the universe had unfairly dumped it on him, an innocent little boy. He suffered while she grew up normally with her loving mother and Luke. It wasn't fair. After that, she had let the emotion get the best of her. She knew it was wrong, knew it wasn't meant to happen like that, but she wanted desperately to prove to Jace that he was loved, that she wanted him. She selfishly let him touch her, when she knew things had to stop. Then she made him feel dirty for doing what she wanted, what she moaned for, what she pushed on him. Isabelle was right; she _was_ a terrible girlfriend.

The teacher eyed her warily when she walked into English nearly fifteen minutes late, but she didn't offer an excuse. She just silently made her way to the desk in the back of the room. Her heart sank when she saw Aline sitting two chairs away, glaring at her menacingly. There were no assigned seats, but Aline normally sat in the front far away from her. Clary knew something was wrong. The very first time the teacher turned her back to the class, a wadded up piece of notebook paper landed on Clary's desk.

She unfolded the crumpled sheet. Only six black words were scribbled across the top line in loopy girl's handwriting. _Don't be stupid. _It said. _He's using you. _She lifted her head from the paper, Aline's dark eyes were burning holes through her.

"Today, is going to be a catch-up day." The thin teacher announced in her high pitched voice. "I'm going to give you a chance to finish up any missing working. If you're all done, you can read, play a game or chat _quietly_."

Clary sighed deeply. She wasn't there for most of the assignments, and she had completed all the ones due that week. She just hoped and prayed that Aline had plenty of work to do. The short black bob two seats away rose, as Aline stood. Clary shuddered; she was moving swiftly in her direction. Aline was dressed in a black miniskirt, and a low cut red top. Thick liner made her eyes look piercing and cold. The desk beside her screeched across the floor, as Aline pulled it beside hers, boxing Clary in the seat.

"What the fuck is going on with you and Jace Lightwood?" Aline spat the words, unable to disguise her fury.

Clary's eyes fell to the desk. "I don't know." She whispered.

"Don't lie to me Clary! Are you dating?"

"No." She sighed. "Not really."

"Figures." Aline shouted the words a little too loud. Curious stares started to fall upon them. "You're fucking him! Aren't you?"

She looked up into her angry eyes. "No! It's not like that."

"Yes it is Clary. That's _all_ he wants from you. Once you give it to him, he's gone. Fuck and duck." She scowled. "That's how he operates."

"You don't know him." Her words were quiet but had a furious edge.

"Oh is that so? _I_ don't know him. You think you're special don't you?" She spat. "Well I hate to break it to you, but you don't mean a damn thing to him." Frustrated angry tears began to form in Clary eyes. "You won't be his first. He fucked me you know. And you won't be near as good as me." Her voice fell to a venomous whisper. "He'll be thinking about me, wishing he wasn't fucking some naïve little virgin."

Tears began to spill on to her cheeks. "Leave me alone Aline." She wanted to sound forceful, but her voice shook with raw pain.

"Aw." She smiled sarcastically. "Did I hurt your feelings? Really Clary, I'm doing you a favor. Let him go." With that Aline, got up and pulled the desk away from her. Clary stood, and hurried to the bathroom. Embarrassed, she didn't want anyone to see her tears. Horrible thoughts raced through her mind, as she stared into the dirty mirror. What if Aline was right? What if Jace really didn't care about her? Her porcelain skin was stained tomato red. He promised that she was special, but he wanted to fuck her in the back of a car. Was that any better than under the stairs in the gym? But he was also so kind and thoughtful. He _even_ said he no longer begrudged his horrific childhood, because it saved her from the same pain. It couldn't all be a lie, an elaborate ploy to get her to sleep with him. Could it?

She held a damp paper towel under her eyes, trying to cool her feverish skin. After a few minutes, the redness finally started to fade but the pain didn't. A lump permanently rested at the back of her throat, constantly threatening to burst into a miserable sob. Checking her phone, she saw that she had been in the bathroom for nearly ten minutes. She still looked like she had been crying, but she couldn't bear getting in to trouble…not today.

She pushed open the heavy white bathroom door, and stepped out into the empty hall of blue lockers. Slowly, she put one foot in front of the other trying to regain some composure before she entered the classroom. Suddenly, she heard footsteps behind her, then a voice. "Clary." Alec shouted. As she turned around, his smile faded. "Oh God, what's wrong?" She shook her head, not wanting to speak. "Come on Clary, don't be like that. I'm you're friend." He put his hand on her shoulder.

"Aline." It was the only word she could muster.

"Oh." He sighed. "I don't know what she did, but she's a bitch, please don't let her get to you."

"I have to get back to class." She muttered monotonously, as she turned to walk away. She didn't see Alec taking his phone from his pocket. He stood in the hall, watching her move, as he frantically text Isabelle.

When she walked back into her English class, the teacher cast a concerned glance in her direction. It was a if she was saying, want to talk about it? Clary shook her head, vehemently refusing any advice from a teacher. She ignored the pointing and stares and walked back to her desk. Relief washed over her. Aline was gone, now seated in her usual spot in the front of the room. She laid her head on her desk and closed her eyes, willing the room to fade into oblivion.

Her next two classes passed in a miserable haze. She had absolutely no clue as to what either teacher talked about. Her thoughts were clouded by worry and fear. Distracted by the jagged pieces of her broken life, she stared distantly out the window.

When lunch finally came, Clary wasn't sure what to do, what to say to him. How could she begin to explain what she was feeling? Or was it best just to forget what happened that morning, and ignore the misery that twisted her stomach into knots.

The cafeteria was overwhelmingly loud. Clary could hardly bear to listen to boisterous laughs, fierce arguments and playful banter. She arrived earlier than usual, and looked towards the senior section, expecting to see Alec there alone. But he wasn't sitting in the booth, instead Jace sat in his usual spot, his head down staring a the table.

She took a deep breath and pushed her way through the crowd towards him. When she reached the table, he lifted his head and faked a smile. "Hey." He said softly. She nodded and sat down beside him. He immediately snaked his arm around her waist, pulling her close, and forcing her cast into his stomach.

"Where's Alec?" She asked, scanning the room.

"Over there." He pointed to Isabelle's table. Alec was sitting down with the girls, an infuriated expression on his face. He and Aline seemed to be arguing.

"Is he all right?" Clary asked, feeling concerned.

"Yeah he's just pissed off, and so am I. Isabelle told me what happened this morning." The words were low and full of remorse. "I'm so fucking sorry."

"It's all right." She sighed emotionlessly, laying her head on his shoulder.

"No." His voice had a new edge. "It's not all right Clary! That bitch hurt you. Tell me what she said!" His eyes were pleading.

Clary gulped, trying to find the courage to relay that painful conversation. "She said you were using me." The lump in her throat was threatening to burst. "And that I wasn't special. All you wanted was to fuck me, then you'd leave."

Anger burned in his eyes. "That stupid lying whore."

Clary continued. "She said you'd fuck me, but you'd be thinking about her, wishing you weren't with a naïve little virgin." She mocked Aline's menacing tone.

"Oh God." He raked his fingers through his hair. "You know she's full of shit." He paused, waiting for a response. "Tell me you don't believe her Clary!" She buried her face in her hands. "How fucking could you?" He shouted.

The tears began to flow again. "What's the difference Jace?" Her voice cracked into a sob. "The backseat of Alec's car, under the stairs in the gym; it's all the same."

"No it's not!" He was begging for her to understand. "We stopped, and as fucking hard as I was, I didn't prod you on, because I knew it was wrong! I knew you deserved more. That's not what I want from you Clary!"

She sobbed into his chest. The bustling cafeteria began to melt away and images of their short time together filled her mind. She saw him holding her bloody broken body in the car, juggling three milkshakes as he clumsily pushed his way through the door of her hospital room, wrapping her in his thick leather jacket under the willow, and stealing a kiss as she ran from his bedroom. The doubt Aline had planted in her mind began to fade away.

He stroked her back soothingly, as her tears seeped through his shirt. "You want to know the real difference?" He whispered. She nodded eagerly against his chest. He took a deep breath, gathering his courage. A small smile broke out across his lips. "I love you Clary." The words were a quiet murmur, but they were full of innocent sincerity. "I've known you for four fucking days, and I love you more than anyone I've ever known in my entire life." He paused, holding her tighter. "Crazy isn't it?"

"No." She whispered. "I love you too."

**A/N:** Phew, told you I had a lot to cover! I'm trying to build some sexual tensions, hope it's working. By the way, it's really hard to find a pretty way to say erection. No pun intended. Any ideas? Thanks for reading!! Reviews are hotter than lacey purple fantasies!


	11. What Not to Wear

**Forgotten Angels**

_Disclaimer: The Mortal Instruments Trilogy and all affiliated characters belong to Cassandra Clare_

A/N: Sorry this is so late. I had a busy week, and this is going to be kind of a long chapter. My apologies. Thanks for the reviews! Hope you enjoy!

**Chapter 10: What Not to Wear**

The rest of the school day passed in a blissful fog. Clary couldn't quite believe how three little words could so drastically alter her mood. Her fragile psyche had traveled from the pits of hopeless despair to the top of the world in a matter of seconds.

All of the burdensome weight of worry, doubt, misery, guilt and fear just floated away. Nothing Aline said could hurt her anymore. Jace loved her, and that was all that mattered.

Clary lie in bed, staring at the white ceiling; she counted the minutes until midnight, until that light tap on her window startled her out of a dreamy daze. The door was locked, blankets were stacked by the bed, and a fluffy white pillow lay on the floor. Everything was ready, the only thing left to do…wait and wait and wait some more. It proved to be an excruciatingly difficult task. She was buzzing with excitement. Clary felt like a five-year-old fighting sleep on Christmas Eve. She tried to close her eyes, tried to relax, tried not to think about the glowing window in the house next door, but the harder she tried, the more rigid and awake her body became. Finally giving up, she took her Ipod from the drawer, and laid the buds on the bed beside her ears. Before she knew it, every sappy love song in her play list filled the room with a quiet romantic melody.

The glow of moonlight faded as a dark silhouette filled her window. There was a light tap on the glass. Right on time, she thought, as she cut the music. Pulling back the curtains, she revealed an angular face shrouded in shadows and a messy mop of golden hair, glowing like a halo in the pale moonlight. Opening the window, a pair gentle hands reached for her sides, and guided her and the bulky cast through the frame. Once outside, Jace took her hand and silently led her to their spot under the willow. Her black tank top suddenly felt thin in the cool night air. She was grateful for the gray oversized pajama pants that dragged the ground when she walked. No one spoke until they were settled down on their blanket, her head on his shoulder and his palm resting on the small of her back.

"Are you feeling better?" He whispered, softly nuzzling into her red hair. "I know you had a kinda fucked up day."

She nodded. "I'm fine. I had a great day." There was no sarcasm in her voice.

"Don't be ridiculous." He nearly shouted the words. "You cried the whole fucking morning." His voice fell to a somber murmur. "I'm just so sorry."

"Why are you sorry?" She asked, astonished by the unnecessary apology.

"What happened in the car this morning and with that bitch, Aline, all that shit was my fault."

"Stop it." She cried, wrapping her arm around his back. "This was one of the best days of my life. You told me you loved me!" She couldn't hide the excitement in her voice.

"I know." He hung his head. "I'm sorry if it was too soon, but I thought you deserved to know the truth."

"Jace!" She grabbed his face in her hands and looked into his eyes. "Stop apologizing! I'm glad you told me, because I was telling the truth too. I love you." She whispered.

A wide grin spread out across his face, "You meant it?"

"Of course I meant it!" She was annoyed at his disbelief. "Why else would I say something like that?"

"I don't fucking know." He sighed. "Maybe you didn't want to make me feel bad?"

"Oh shut up!" She screamed. "I fucking love you!"

"Fine, I believe you." He chuckled loudly planting a soft kiss on her cheek.

"Good." She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

"You know," his voice grew soft and serious. "I've never said that to anyone before, not in my whole fucking life."

"Really?" Her eyes were wide with concern. "Not to Valentine, Maryse, Robert, or even Alec or Isabelle?"

"No, none of them." He whispered, his eyes staring off into the distance.

She gave a sad smile and brushed a blonde lock from his forehead. "Did anyone ever say it to you?"

"Maryse did, once." He sighed. "But she didn't fucking mean it. She said it because that's how she thought she was supposed to feel, not because she actually harbored any affection for me."

"Jace." She interjected. "I know she cares about you."

"Yeah." He agreed. "But how can you not care about a fucking abused orphan? It's not love Clary, just pity. Not that I blame her, I'm not exactly the model son."

"That's terrible." She whispered in a shaky voice, on the verge of tears.

He sensed her distress. "Clary, I'm not telling you this to upset you. I just want you to understand how fucking monumental this is for me, and how confused I am. I don't fucking know what to do."

"Well," she smiled, "I'm new at this myself, but I think being in love means you're selfless, like when the other person is hurt, you pick them up off the ground and carry them to the emergency room. And you have to be considerate. Say for instance, the person you loved was in the hospital then you could bring them dinner, and if you're really sweet, you'd bring them breakfast too."

"Okay!" He shouted playfully. "I get it."

"Why can't you see it?" She touched his cheek with her fingertips. "You're such an amazing person. Even Aline saw it, and I'm pretty sure there's a Fendi bag where her heart should be."

Rolling laughs erupted from his lips. "Jesus, Clary! I don't think that's what that bitch was concerned with."

"I know." She sighed. "Aline wanted sex. Not that I can say I blame her." She hesitated, turning away from him. "You're an attractive guy." The words were a nervous whisper.

His cheeks flushed a light pink, too embarrassed to acknowledge the compliment. "Yeah, she'll sleep with anything. Are you still planning on going to the party tomorrow?"

"No!" Clary shouted. "I don't want to have anything to do with _her_."

"But you promised Isabelle you'd go." His voice was pleading, a little too concerned for this just to be about his sister.

"I think she'll understand."

"It's not Aline's party. It'll be really crowded, not like you'll have to hang around her all night."

She smiled. "Why do you want me to go so badly?"

"Alec and I are going, and you're supposed to spend the night after. Maryse and Robert we'll be at a weekend cocktail party. They usually stumble in the door around dawn." His gaze fell to the ground. "We could have an entire night together."

"Oh." She smiled, holding him closer. "Why didn't you say so?"

"I didn't want to sound too fucking desperate."

A wry smile lit up her face. "Are you desperate?" She asked playfully.

"Kinda." He chuckled quietly. "We have a nice guestroom." His voice suddenly became nervous and shaky, pausing for a long time. "But I thought you might want to stay with me."

Clary smiled, feeling her cheeks blush a fiery red. Was he insisting they sleep in the same bed? "Isn't this Isabelle's sleepover?"

"By the time we get home, she'll be too fucking hammered to remember you exist." A wry half smile lit up his face. "And my bed is bigger."

"Your bed," she giggled, "_was _awfully comfortable."

"I wish I could say the same for your floor." He teased, placing his hand on the small of his aching back. "I'll probably have a fucking Quasimodo hump by the time I'm twenty."

Clary snorted. "I don't recall _making_ you sleep there!"

"I'm just joking around, I don't mind. It's worth it just to get to see you sleeping." He chuckled at himself. "I sound like a fucking stalker." She giggled and shook her head. "I just mean that you're always so stressed and worried. It's nice to see a peaceful look on your face."

"When I'm with you," she smiled, "is really the only time I feel safe."

He brushed her hair away from her face. "I'm so sorry I can't be with you more."

"It's not your fault." She sighed. "My mother is completely insane right now, and I understand why. But that still gives her no right to judge you so harshly. She doesn't even know you, and she likes the Lightwoods. Doesn't she trust them to make sure you're not a delinquent?"

"Don't be so hard on your mom, Clary. You don't know Valentine like we do. He was my only role model for nearly a decade. She's just worried that I'm as fucking insane as he is."

"But why wouldn't she tell me he was your foster father? At least then, maybe I'd understand why she was being such a bitch."

"I don't know." He kissed her lightly on the cheek. "Maybe she didn't want to scare you, or maybe she didn't want you to feel sorry for me, you know give us something to bond over."

"I guess. I just hate having to sneak around."

"Why?" He shouted. "It's fucking fun, and we get to see each other without starting a war in your house. I don't want you to fight with your family over me."

"I haven't, not sense that night in the hospital, and my mother was being horrible to you. She even admitted it."

"Yeah, but she's irrational right now, scared out of her fucking mind to be exact. If she thinks you're in danger, then you're not going to be able to reason with her." He raked his fingers through his hair. "So don't be angry at her for keeping secrets."

"I'm trying not to be. I just hate how quickly she judged you. I mean you're a little rough on the outside," she giggled, "but you're really just a big softy."

"Is that so?" He grinned.

"Yeah." She agreed. "You're kind and thoughtful, an honor student, an exceptional artist, very athletic, practically perfect in every way." Her tone was playful and sarcastic.

"Shut up." He joked. "I'll have _you_ know, that I'm a fucking rude, angst ridden teenager with a criminal record."

Her eyes grew wide. "You were arrested?"

"Yeah." He flashed a wry smile.

"For what?" She asked eagerly.

"Well." He hesitated, building her anticipation. "Public urination." His face was straight, and his voice, emotionless.

Bubbly giggles filled the night air around them. "You peed in public!" She exclaimed through hysteric laughter. "You _are _a bad boy. How did you skirt the death penalty with that on your record? Should I ask where, or do I even want to know?"

"Well first of all Clary, I am a man, and I don't _pee_."

"Oh excuse me, _drain the lizard_." She replied sarcastically.

He snorted. "I can't believe you just fucking said that. You've been spending too much time with Alec." He paused to gather his thoughts. "I _pissed_ in the fountain on main street."

"Oh God." Clary shouted. "That is really disgusting. Kids play in that, you know."

"Well sorry, I had to go, and I might have been slightly fucking intoxicated." He chuckled. "It's all right though. I spent a few hours in the drunk tank. Robert paid the fine. I had to paint the basement the next day. And most importantly, it made for a fucking funny story. Right?"

"Oh yes." She nodded sarcastically. "I'm on the edge of my seat over here, just begging for another Jace Lightwood urinary adventure."

He grinned. "You know, you're quite a smart ass sometimes." He hesitated, turning away from her. "It's sexy." She wanted to say something witty, but the words wouldn't come. She just turned her head away, trying to hide her blushing cheeks. "So," he said, "are you still shopping with Isabelle tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I think so." She replied sheepishly.

"Then we should get to bed soon, you'll be getting up fucking early tomorrow."

"No." She protested, not wanting the conversation to end. "Tomorrow is Saturday. We can sleep in and go shopping in the afternoon."

"Um…" He snickered. "You don't know Isabelle too well. Do you?" Clary shook her head, confused. "To her, shopping is a fucking endurance sport. She takes all damn day."

She let out an audible sigh. "Well we're supposed to come back and play beauty shop, so maybe she'll cut the shopping trip short."

"Good luck." Jace huffed. "Well, come on." He put his hands on the ground, starting to push himself up. "We're going to be up late tomorrow night, and you don't need to be fucking dead on your feet."

"Okay mom." She snapped. He reached out his hand, and she took it lifting herself off the blanket. They crept silently through the wet grass, hand in hand, across the yard. At her window, he put his hands firmly on her sides and guided her back through the frame. He followed close behind, his baggy jeans catching on the seal. Stumbling inside, his feet hit the floor with a thud. Clary's breath hitched, and they both froze, listening intently. Her mother's bed creaked, but no one got up. After a few minutes, they breathed a sigh of relief.

She slipped off her flip-flops and climbed into bed. Watching as Jace spread his blankets out on the hardwood, she felt a twinge of guilt for making him sleep on the floor. "Jace." She whispered. His head shot up, and she motioned with her hand for him to come closer. The bed squeaked, as he took a seat beside her. She moved her head right beside his ear. "Lay down." She murmured. "On your stomach." Kicking his black Nikes off his feet, he followed directions.

Clary sat crossed legged on the bed beside his lanky frame. She put her hand on his shoulder massaging deeply into his tense body. A low sigh escaped his lips. She kneaded her fingers deep into his strained muscles until they were limp and relaxed. Under his shirt, she could feel tiny raised places on his skin, but she didn't ask questions. He was enjoying himself too much to risk spoiling the moment. Working methodically down his spine, she felt all his nervous tension melt away at her soothing touch. Reaching his lower back, she lifted his shirt and began to slide her hand under the fabric. His entire body immediately wrenched, and he grabbed her hand. She looked to his eyes, his head furiously shaking back and fourth.

Confused, she dropped his shirt back onto his warm skin and caressed him gently over the thin white t-shirt. After a few minutes, his breathing got deeper and labored. He lifted his head from the pillow, his eyes full of dreamy haze. Still laying down, he lifted his arms and wrapped them around Clary's neck. She bent forward, kissing him gently on the lips. For a moment, she thought she felt something wet on his cheeks, but she shook the thought off, just massaging his soft lips with hers.

He broke the kiss first, whispering, "Good night, I love you." His words were hoarse and trembling, as he rolled himself off the bed.

"I love you too." She replied, watching him settle into his normal position on the floor. Something didn't seem quite right, but Clary was afraid to bother him with questions. She could tell he didn't want to talk about it. Instead of demanding answers, she reached her hand down off the side of the bed and stroked his golden hair until his light breaths turned into soft quiet snores.

A loud ringing roused Clary from her deep sleep. Her eyes fluttered open to the blue room washed in the bright morning sunshine. Her sleepy hand roamed the nightstand, searching for the annoying alarm clock. Finally, she realized she didn't have one and picked up her cell phone. _Isabelle_ was flashing across the glowing screen. She flipped it open and attempted to talk. "Hello." She whispered hoarsely.

"Hey Clary!" The voice on the other end was cheerful and excited. "Are you ready to go?"

"Go where?" Clary asked.

"Shopping." She exclaimed. "Don't tell me I woke you up."

Clary let out a groan. "You did! It's 8:30, but I'll be over in a few minutes."

"Hurry, we've got a lot to do. We need outfits, shoes, accessories and you need makeup."

"Are you sure that's necessary?" Her voice was tired and whiney.

"Imperative." Isabelle replied emotionlessly before pressing the end button. Clary let out one last groan before peeling her tired body off the sheets. She trudged to the shower, then threw her wet hair up in a ponytail.

After throwing on some jeans and a blue tank top and grabbing a wad of cash, she grunted a, "Good Morning," to her mother and started her trek across the yard. The black Mercedes was idling in the Lightwood driveway.

As Clary approached the car, the driver's side window slid downward. Maryse flashed a smile, and Isabelle gave an annoyed scowl. "It's about time." She spat.

"Sorry." Clary replied. "I didn't know you were leaving _this _early."

"Well, we have a lot to do." Isabelle shouted. "Now get in!" Clary nodded and opened the backseat door. She couldn't help but notice the faint pink stain on the light leather, _her_ blood. It reminded her of the blurry vision of a man with a dark shirt and blonde hair, holding her tight in his arms. "Mom's just going to drop us off in the shopping district." Isabelle said. "There are a couple of cute boutiques and a shoe store."

"Great." Clary tried to feign excitement, but this whole day was starting to sound torturous. They rode in silence most of the way. Maryse pulled the car to a stop on a quaint street filled with little trendy shops.

"Thanks, bye." Isabelle shouted to her mother, nearly jumping out of her seat. Clary smiled and thanked Maryse, as she rushed out, trying to catch up with Isabelle, who was nearly to the door of a boutique called _Jezebel_. Clary couldn't help but think it was an appropriate store for her new friend. She thought Isabelle already looked dressed for the party. She was in a short skirt and white peep toe heels.

As they walked in, the lady behind the counter shouted in their direction. "Hey Iz." The woman cried. She had short dyed black hair, and a face full of piercings.

"Hey Charlotte." Isabelle smiled. "This is my friend Clary. We've got a party tonight." Clary smiled, and looked around. Pop music pulsated through the dim shop that was full of young chic fashions: short skirts, dresses and low-cut strappy tops.

"Oh cool." Charlotte replied. "We just got some new stuff in the back. I saw one of the dresses, and I immediately thought of you. Hold on a second." She spoke excitedly, moving from behind the counter. "I'll go get it."

Isabelle started fingering through the racks of clothes. "Look for something bright." She instructed. "They look the best under the black light. But stay away from reds and pinks." Clary sighed, as she pushed through the foreign clothes, feeling like she was on _What Not to Wear_.

"Here it is!" Charlotte called, holding up the short red dress.

Isabelle's eyes lit up. "I love it." She shouted. Clary groaned, what was so special about that dress? "Leave it on the counter, I'll try it on after I find Clary and I a dress for tonight. It's a rave, we have to look slightly tackier than usual."

Charlotte giggled, and looked at Clary. "Would you like some help?" Clary nodded, desperately needing more than just Isabelle's shouted directions. "All right." Charlotte said, scanning through the dresses. "What size are you?"

"Five." She replied, suddenly feeling self-conscious about her scrawny straight frame, silently wishing for some of Isabelle's womanly curves. She pretended to look around for another few minutes.

"Try these." Charlotte shouted from the other side of the shop. Clary looked up to see the tiny woman with an arm full of dresses. She sighed internally and faked a smile. "Dressing room is in the back." She took the dresses from her arms and carried them to the tiny closet in the back of the store. The garments were disgustingly bright shades of yellow, green, purple and blue.

"I want to see every one of them." Isabelle shouted from behind a rack. Clary rolled her eyes and stripped off her t-shirt and jeans, thankful she'd remembered to wear a white bra. The first dress was yellow, very very yellow. She pulled it over her head, nearly ripping it on her cast and stepped out into the store.

"What do you think?" She asked.

Isabelle peeked her head around the corner. Her disgusted grimace said it all. "Try again Tweety." Clary sighed and stepped back in, trying on a flimsy lime green strapless dress. She walked back out. "God." Isabelle called. "Too pale, you look like a zombie."

"Thanks." She muttered under her breath, as she pulled off the hideous dress. Her third attempt was a metallic, bright cobalt dress with thick straps and an asymmetrical hem. It was classiest but also the shortest dress she'd tried on so far. Her legs felt cold and bare. Stepping back out of the closet, she waited for rejection.

Isabelle looked up; she didn't speak. Her eyes narrowed in on Clary. "Oh my God." She shouted. "That is hot! It's casual enough for the party, and it distracts from the cast."

"Are you sure?" Clary asked, feeling skeptical.

"Yes." Isabelle was practically screaming. "Jace is gonna pop his zipper when he sees you in that."

Clary's cheeks blushed a fiery red and she turned to walk back into the dressing room. Breathing a deep sigh of relief, she was just glad she didn't have to try anything else on. Opening the door, she saw Isabelle coming towards her with an arm full of clothes. She stepped out of the way and took a seat in the folding chair beside the tiny closet. For the next forty-five minutes, she made up praises and critiques for each of Isabelle's selections, until finally she found _the_ perfect dress. Clary could hardly believe her eyes when Isabelle sauntered out the door in a short white dress with large circular slits cut up the sides. A huge grin lit up her face. "What do you think?"

"Um," Clary hesitated, searching her brain for an appropriate response. "A lot of women in New York wear that kind of thing."

Isabelle nodded, "Probably to all the hottest clubs."

Clary hesitated, "Clubs… street corners… whatever."

Isabelle brushed off her comment. "This is _it_!" She declared. "The white will glow under the black light. And it's sexy as hell." She turned to Clary. Clary nodded, trying to force a smile. "Let's get out of here. We need shoes!" She suppressed a groan and followed Isabelle to the counter.

The shoe store was almost unbearable. Shelves upon shelves of peep toes, stilettos, platforms, high pumps, low pumps, tall boots, ankle boots, pointed toes, rounded toes, thong sandals, gladiator sandals. Clary took a seat on the bench and waited for Isabelle to pick something out for her. Only a few minutes passed, before there was a stack of boxes a mile high beside the bench.

She tried them on until she found something Isabelle didn't scowl at, and she could walk in, simple black patent leather pumps. Isabelle's shoes, of course were more ostentatious, strappy silver stilettos.

After an excruciatingly long trip to the makeup boutique, it was finally time to call Maryse. All of Isabelle's boxes and bags would barely fit in the trunk. It was nearly three when they finally got back to the Lightwood's house. Clary's stomach was empty and rumbling.

Walking through the front door, Clary could immediately hear a loud noise coming from the living room. She turned to see Jace and Alec, sprawled out on the couch, in a sloppy way that only teenage boys could sit. Their hands were attached to videogame controllers and their eyes glued to the television. The coffee table was littered with bags of chips and empty coke cans.

"We're back." Maryse called in their direction, they grunted hellos without shifting their stare from the screen. Isabelle led Clary into the kitchen where they sat at the bar and made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Isabelle hurried her along, anxious to get started on their looks for the party.

Halfway through her sandwich the two boys walked into the kitchen, empty chip bags in hand. "There aren't anymore chips." Isabelle said before they even spoke.

Alec let out an annoyed sigh. "Do we have pretzels or anything?"

"Nope." She replied.

"What happened to all the snacks?" Alec cried, exacerbated.

"Hmm… I don't know." His sister's voice was full of sarcasm. "I think two pigs ate everything but the celery."

Jace glared at Isabelle. "At least we don't fucking throw-up afterwards." Isabelle shot a piercing glare in his direction.

Clary tried to stifle her laughs when she saw Maryse making her way through the door. Her eyes narrowed in on Jace; she was watching him like a hawk. "Mom!" Alec shouted in a whiney voice. "We have nothing to eat in this house."

Maryse faked a smile. "Why don't you two boys go back to the living room? I'll make you some cookies."

Alec furrowed his brows. "Since when do you bake?"

"Since today." She replied bluntly. "Now get out of here, let the girls eat in peace." Turning around, she searched the cabinets for sugar and flour. As the boys started to walk out, Jace lightly caressed Clary's arm. She smiled but neither of them spoke a word.

Isabelle glanced over at Clary, a big grin on her face. "Are you excited about tonight?" Isabelle asked, a desperate attempt at small talk.

"Yeah." Clary replied genuinely. Of course, she didn't care at all about the party but was thrilled about spending the night with Jace.

"That Aline is such a sweet girl." Maryse chimed in. "I've always wanted Alec or Jace to date her."

Clary stifled the expletive that longed to burst from her lips. Isabelle shot her a glance and mouthed the words _play along_. "Yeah Aline's great." Isabelle said. "But I don't know if she's right for my brothers."

"No." Clary replied, trying to keep her voice casual. "Their personalities seem to clash."

"Maybe Alec's." Maryse interjected. "But I think she'd be good for Jace. Who knows? She might be able to straighten that boy out. You should talk to her Isabelle, see if she's interested."

Clary was fuming, Isabelle grabbed her cast. "Yeah maybe." Isabelle replied in her most innocent voice. "Are you done?" She looked to Clary.

"Yes." She snapped.

"Well why don't you go take a _shower_?" She shouted the final word a little too loudly. "I'll bring all of our packages upstairs."

"I already took a shower today." Her voice was full of exasperated annoyance.

"Take another one." Isabelle insisted. "It'll be easier to do your hair if I can blow dry it."

"Fine." She huffed, as she lifted herself from the barstool, throwing her jelly stained paper plate in the trash. Clary trudged heavily up the stairs, still sulking over Maryse's comments. It wasn't until she reached Isabelle's bathroom that she remembered she didn't even pack a bag. Pulling her phone out of her pocket, she began to text Isabelle.

_I didn't bring any clothes._ She typed, feeling somehow triumphant for throwing a wrench in Isabelle's plans.

She was quick to respond. _Wear my bathrobe, til' ur ready for the dress. _Clary groaned, eyeing the bright silky things that hung on the back of the door. Annoyed, she stripped her clothes off and stepped into the tub. She tinkered with the gold bath fixtures until the shower came on. Struggling with her cast, she washed her hair awkwardly with one hand. There was a light knock at the door, then it creaked open. "Isabelle?"

"No." A low voice whispered. "It's me." Clary smiled and peeked her head out from the behind the thick cream curtain. Through the heavy steam, she could see choppy pieces of golden hair.

"Jace." She said sheepishly, trying to hold back a blush. He had a thick white towel in his hand.

"Shh." He murmured, hanging the towel on a rack, by the tub. "I'm risking decapitation by being here."

Clary giggled. "Um…" She stuttered. "I'm kind of naked at the moment."

He grinned and slapped his cheek sarcastically. "No!" He rolled his eyes. "I'm not here to fucking join you, unless of course that's what you want." She giggled. "Nah, I just wanted to bring you a towel and see how you survived the little shopping excursion."

"Excruciating." She groaned. "I'm surprised I lived to tell the tale."

He chuckled lightly. "I told you, she's fucking hardcore. Did you buy anything for tonight?"

She snickered loudly, "Well Bruno, I had no idea you were so into fashion." He rolled his eyes. "I got some blue thing."

"That's descriptive." He grinned. "I better go. Maryse will fucking hang me if I get caught in here." She couldn't hold back a slight frown. "Aw, don't give me that look. Come here." He moved closer, making her breath quicken, as she pulled the curtain tight across her body.

He took her face in his hands and moved his lips inches from hers. She closed the gap, kissing him softly but eagerly. That was what she had longed for all day. She sucked lightly on his full bottom lip, before plunging her tongue into his mouth. He let out a deep groan and began to twist his fingers into her wet hair. Desperate to touch him, she removed her hand from the curtain and wrapped her arms around his neck. Swinging back into place by her side, the curtain was gone. She stood there, lips pressed tightly against his, soaking wet and completely nude.

Her heart began to pound. Unashamed, she tangled her wrinkled fingers in his golden hair. His breath hitched, and he moved closer, pressing her wet body against him. Without hesitation, she fell into his arms, her bare breasts resting against his heaving chest. He fought furiously to keep his eyes closed while his tongue massaged hers, but he had to steal just one glance. Opening his eyes, he indulged himself on delicious images of warm porcelain skin enveloped in a sheath of steam and seductive bumps of flesh with firm pink peaks, that he held tightly against himself. He could only imagine what was below, but it didn't matter. He was already pushing against Clary's wet thigh, his jeans excruciatingly tight. She moaned as his fingertips traveled up her bare back.

Suddenly there was a light knock at the door. Their breath hitched, as he broke the long sensual kiss. "Clary." Isabelle called. "Are you about done in there?"

"Jus…" She squeaked, pulling the curtain back over her body "Just a few more minutes." She called, trying to make her voice sound as normal as possible.

"All right." She replied. "I'll be in my room."

"Okay." She shouted, as Jace stole one last kiss from her forehead.

"Maryse and Robert are going out soon." He whispered. "I'll see you then." She nodded and flashed a dreamy smile. Her entire body felt limp and breathless. She had never been so aroused before. It was so raw and passionate, having her nude wet body pressed tightly against him, and feeling his arousal. It was all she could do to stand.

"I love you." She murmured.

"I love you too." He flashed a goofy half grin, and walked slowly out the door, checking the hall before he stepped out. Head spinning and needing another wash, Clary stepped back into the warm steam and finished her shower.

She staggered out with her hair twisted in the white towel and Isabelle's purple silk robe wrapped around her. Knocking on her door, Isabelle shouted from the other side. "Come in."

Clary opened the door and stepped into Isabelle's bedroom. It looked more like a romantic boudoir, than something for a teenage girl. The walls were creamy white with gauzy crimson curtains on wrought iron rods. There was a full four poster bed with a matching crimson duvet, a black vanity and a million accent candles. "Well, it's about time." Isabelle huffed. "We need to get started, we have to leave in four hours." Clary groaned at the mere thought of all the merciless torture Isabelle could put her through in that amount of time.

It was worse than Clary ever imagined. Isabelle painted, plucked, exfoliated, moisturized, brushed, curled, straightened, powered, covered, lined and highlighted for two solid hours. When she was done Clary's face was flawlessly covered. Her cheeks wore a hint of peach blush and her lips were a glossy coral. Isabelle did a classic smoky eye with the perfect amount of liner and mascara. Even Clary was surprised when she looked in the mirror. She expected Isabelle to go overboard, expected to look cheap and overdone, but she was pleasantly surprised. Her hair was half pulled back in a tasteful silver clip. Rolling spiral curls flowed beautifully from the clasp. The rest of her hair was shiny and stick straight with a tiny hint of bangs framing her face.

"Wow." Clary whispered, staring in the mirror. "It was almost worth the pain."

Isabelle giggled. "Not bad, if I do say so myself. Just a few more touches, and you'll be ready to get dressed." She opened a drawer in the vanity and pulled out a black box. "These will match your shoes." Opening the box, Clary saw a necklace of black beads. "Onyx." She murmured, as she fastened the clasp around Clary's neck.

There was a loud bang on the door. "We're leaving." Robert shouted. "You girls be careful. Make sure Alec drives safely!"

"We will dad." Isabelle called. "Have a good time." Loud footsteps echoed through the hall as he hurried down the stairs. A few moments later, the thunderous sound of the garage door opening rattled the house. "Phew, they're gone." Isabelle sighed. "Now I can finally get ready."

"Why does it matter?" Clary asked, feeling confused.

Isabelle's eyes grew wide. "Do you actually think my mother would let me leave the house in the dress I bought today?"

Clary laughed. "I wondered about that."

Isabelle grinned devilishly. There was another knock at the door. "Go away Jace!" She shouted, without even asking who it was.

"But…"

"Go!" She screamed. "You can't see her until she's completely ready!"

"Please." He cried.

Isabelle nearly fell out of her seat. "Stop pretending to be polite! It's creepy! Get out of here; she'll be ready soon."

"Well fuck." He spat from the other side of the door, stomping back off to this room.

The girls looked at each other, giggling. "You can sit on the bed and watch T.V. while I get ready." Isabelle said. "Just don't lean back! If you crush your hair, I'll have to break your other arm." Clary rolled her eyes and pushed herself up out of the chair. She sat neatly on the edge of Isabelle's bed, afraid of destroying her masterpiece.

After an hour and a half of channel surfing, Isabelle was in full night makeup, her hair in a curly up-do worthy of the red carpet. "What do you think?" She said, turning to face Clary.

"Another work of art." Clary smiled genuinely.

"Glad you like it." She flashed a smug grin. "We need to get going. Time to get dressed!"

Clary lifted herself up off the bed and walked to the corner where her dress lay folded in a box. "Shit." She shouted. "I don't have any underwear." A giggle escaped her lips.

"Clary." Isabelle cried belligerently. "You can't wear underwear with that dress."

"Why not?"

"Panty lines are not attractive. Here." She said, walking over to her dresser. She dug out a black push up bra with clear straps. "Wear this. It'll make you look like you have cleavage." Clary rolled her eyes and took the bra. Turning away from Isabelle, she dropped the robe to the ground and carefully stepped into the dress. Pulling it halfway up her body, she fastened the bra around her chest. Isabelle was right, it did give her cleavage.

When they were dressed they walked out into the hall. Isabelle knocked on Jace's door. "Come in." He called, his voice full of excitement.

Isabelle turned the knob. "Oh hell no!" She shouted. "You are _not_ wearing that!"

"What the fuck?" Jace cried, staring down at his black t-shirt and jeans.

"Look at her." She yelled, pulling Clary by her cast into the door frame.

Jace's chin fell on the floor. "Clary." His voice was soft and breathless. "You look beautiful."

She turned her head, hiding her blush. "Change!" Isabelle screamed, slamming the door. Not wanting to disappoint Clary, Jace got off his bed and rummaged through the closet. He picked a pair of dark gray dress pants and a white collared shirt. He felt stupid, really stupid, but he kept reminding himself that _this_ was for Clary.

All dressed up, he walked back into the hall to find the girls standing there impatiently. Isabelle let out a sarcastic whistle. "Holy shit." She cried. "You even combed your hair."

He rolled his eyes and walked to Clary, formally offering her his arm. She took it, and he led the way down the stairs. Alec was already waiting by the door, dressed up in a blue collared shirt with crisp black pants, his hair neatly gelled. "Clary!" He shouted, his eyes lighting up. "You look amazing!" She smiled back at him. "And Isabelle." He paused. "Where the hell is the rest of your dress?" She scoffed and pushed past him out the door.

The four of them loaded up in the Honda, Alec at the wheel. Jace and Clary sat together in the backseat, exchanging long glances. He stole quick kisses on her cheek and whispered incessantly about how beautiful she looked. His hand rested gently on her thigh, as annoying punk music bounced through the tiny car.

After an hour and a half of driving, they arrived at a rundown apartment building in Brooklyn. Clary's stomach felt uneasy as her eyes scanned the familiar city. They had to park a block away, and she stayed close to Jace, now afraid of the place she had once called home. Isabelle lead the way up the dim creaking stairwell, white paint chipping off the decrepit walls. They stopped at a black door, loud music and lights pulsed from the crack between the wood and floor. "This is it." Isabelle said, pointing to a sign on the door. Clary squinted, trying to read the words in the shadowy hallway. She made out the phrase, _Happy Birthday Magnus._

**A/N:** Ugh, I didn't get as much accomplished as I wanted to. Oh well I'll try to update faster than last time. Thanks for reading. Reviews are hotter than discarded shower curtains.


	12. 911

**Forgotten Angels**

_Disclaimer: The Mortal Instruments Trilogy and all affiliated characters belong to Cassandra Clare_

A/N: I'm excited about this chapter! Thanks for the reviews and I apologize if some readers are unhappy with my word choice during the more intimate sequences. But this isn't erotica, and I'm trying very hard to be tasteful in the way I describe things. I take great care to avoid both health class and lewd terminology. Anyway, story continues below. Hope you enjoy.

**Chapter 11: 911**

They stood there for a moment, anxiously shuffling in the dim hallway. "What do we do?" Alec asked. "Should we knock? Or just go in?" No one bothered to answer him. Isabelle stepped forward and turned the rusty knob. The overwhelming pulse of techno music and strobe lights smacked them in the face like a hard punch…sensory overload. Clary squinted and instinctively put her hands over her ears. Jace looked down at her, flashed a reassuring smile and pushed her through the door behind Isabelle.

The apartment was smaller and more crowded than she expected. The party room was black from floor to ceiling with splashes of fluorescent paint glowing under the black light. Looking up, Clary couldn't help but feel like she was outside; the bright paint splatters on the ceiling gleamed like stars in the night sky. But the air was stale and hot, smelling of fresh sweat. Trying to move in the room, meant fighting her way through a tidal wave of people. There was no clear divide between the dance floor and the bar. It made for an awkward situation, some people just standing there, shouting over the music while others, eyes already glazed over, mindlessly grinded against them. From what she could tell, the party's mysterious host was friends with an eclectic group of people. Masculine, but well-dressed men, whose chest muscles threatened to break the buttons on their shirts, chatted with elegant women, who belong on the cover of Italian Vogue. Drag queens with huge hair, sparkly gowns and platforms danced to the pounding rhythm. Then there was the typical party crowd, probably college students, Clary thought. Twenty somethings in short skirts and tube tops, with t-shirted frat boys chugging beers and grabbing asses. She had never been to a party like this before. It was intimidating.

"Bar's over there." Isabelle shouted, pointing to the corner of the room. Clary looked hard through the swarm of people, she could barely make out the black counter lit with orange neon lights. The four of them snaked their way through the crowd, pushing and elbowing towards the bar.

"Hi there." The sweaty bartender said, winking at Isabelle. He was slightly overweight with salt and pepper hair, wearing a white collared shirt. Isabelle flashed a devilish grin at the much older man. "What can I get for you sweet heart?"

"Vodka and tonic." She licked her lips seductively, and he turned around to make her drink. In just a few seconds he was back at the counter holding a short blue glowing glass.

The bartender smiled and held out the drink. "Vodka and tonic for the sexy lady." Just as Isabelle took the glass from his hand, someone grabbed her wrist.

"Excuse me!" An unfamiliar voice shouted, a hint of anger echoing through his words. "I think you're lost. R. Kelly's party is next door. I don't allow jailbait here."

Isabelle scoffed and turned her head. She tried to glare daggers at the stranger, but he seemed unaffected. "And who the hell do you think you are?"

"I, my dear, am Magnus Bane." He smiled wickedly. "And you four _children_ are crashing my twenty-first birthday party." His voice was stern, but Clary had trouble taking him seriously. He was a tall, thin man with dark hair formed into sky high spikes. He wore a skin tight, metallic, lime green shirt and black leather pants. She had never seen such a sparkly man in her entire life. There must have been six gold chains around his neck and three gold hoops in each ear and jeweled rings gleaming on his fingers. His eyelids were decorated with a thick layer of glitter.

Alec stepped forward toward Magnus. "I'm not a child." His voice was confident and serious. He didn't sound like himself.

"No." A wry grin danced on Magnus' lips. "You certainly aren't. What brings you and your _friends_ to my little get together?"

Alec sighed. "My sister is a friend of Aline."

"Oh." He looked thoughtful. "I sent her away a half hour ago. There's no room for minors here. Meliorn must not be doing his job at the door." He hesitated for a moment. "Did you say sister?"

"Yes." Alec replied. "This is my sister Isabelle, my brother Jace and our friend Clary."

He nodded a hello in their direction. "And _your_ name?"

"Alec."

"How old are you Alec?" Clary could tell by his eyes that the wheels were turning. He had something up his sleeve, but it didn't seem to have anything to do with her.

"Eighteen." He tried to make his voice deep and strong.

"And a handsome young man like you must have a date. Where is she?"

He shrugged. "I think I'm stag tonight."

"Well Alec, I'll make you a deal." He put his hand on Alec's arm. "I'll let you and your friends hang out here tonight, if _you_ promise to keep me company."

Jace's eyes grew wide. "Hey man, I think you're fucking mistaken."

"No." Alec interjected, trying not to look at Jace. "It's okay. I'm sure it'll be a fun night. You guys go have a good time. I'm just going to chat with our gracious host."

Magnus smiled. "Oh I'm _sure_ that it will be. Now, what would you like to drink?"

Alec gulped hard, staring at the man in front of him. He had to admit that he found Magnus attractive, but he had never been in this situation before. He'd spent his adolescence trying to hide his true feelings, and now an opportunity lay before him to reveal his real self, in front of _a lot _of people. It was exciting but terrifying. He felt his hands start to tremble. "Two shots of Goldschlager."

"Ah, I like gold." He replied, wiggling his heavily ringed fingers in front of his face. "Hear that Pete?" He yelled to the bartender.

"I got ya." He chuckled and turned around to pour the shots. "Goldschlager." He said, sitting the drinks on the bar. Alec quickly picked up one of the glasses and threw it back, then the second.

"Alec!" Isabelle called. "You're driving home. Remember?"

"Um…" Magnus snickered. "I think it might be too late." Alec was already ordering another shot.

Jace scoffed. "Fuck." He sighed. "I don't want to be the designated driver."

"Well," Isabelle shouted. "Clary and I don't have a license and Alec's already half way to happy town. So, sorry Jace it's virgin daiquiris for you tonight."

"Is that an order?" Pete called from behind the bar.

"Fuck no!" Jace screamed. "I need a fucking shot."

"All right children." Magnus interjected. "We've all enjoyed watching you act out your favorite episode of _Dawson's Creek_, but I think this matter is already settled." He pulled a bottle of water from an ice bucket behind the counter and held it out. "Enjoy your evening, Jace." Jace sighed angrily and rolled his eyes, but he took the water.

Jace leaned down to talk in Clary's ear. "Would you like a drink?" She stood there for a moment, pondering the question. Then finally she nodded. "What do you want?"

She shrugged her shoulders, feeling very unsure of herself. "Not a lot of alcohol."

"Hey Pete." The bartender's head shot up. "Rum and coke, keep it light."

Jace grabbed the drink from the bar. "Clary." He said her name sternly. "Don't put this down. In fact, don't take your fucking eyes off of it. Okay?"

"Okay." She shouted. Despite his constant overuse of the word fuck, his thoughtful protectiveness made her smile.

"Well Alec," Magnus said, "I think they have it under control. Let's mingle." He took Alec's wrist and lead him off into the crowd.

Jace looked at Clary, a confused expression on his face. "What the fuck is that about?"

Clary grinned. "Don't worry about it. Just let him have his fun."

"You don't think Alec's um… you know?" He couldn't bring himself to say the word.

"Does it matter?" She didn't really answer his question. It wasn't her place.

"No." Jace blurted the word quickly. "But why wouldn't he tell me?"

She shrugged. "It's probably very difficult for him. You're his brother. He doesn't want to disappoint you. Your opinion means a lot to him, you know?"

Jace shook his head. "I don't fucking buy it. He would have told me."

"You can talk to him about it later." She sipped the last few drops of her drink from the glass.

"Jesus!" Jace shouted. "Slow down." He took the glass out of her hand and sat it on the bar.

She giggled. "I was thirsty."

"I don't want to have to fucking drag three smashed people out of here tonight." Clary's face suddenly felt hot, and her thoughts were a little fuzzy around the edges. "Want to dance?"

"Clary." He chuckled. "I don't really… _dance_."

For some reason that was funny, but she didn't know why. "Oh Jacey, I think you do." Grabbing his hand she tried to pull him towards the DJ booth. He didn't budge, and she stumbled forward in her heels.

"Fuck Clary. Are you okay?" She leaned into his side.

"I feel awesome!" Her words were cheerful but slightly slurred.

"Oh fuck." He took her chin in his hands. "Look at me." He stared into her eyes, they were hazy and glazed over. "What have you eaten today?"

"Hmm…" She giggled. "Peanut butter, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich."

"That's it?" He asked, his voice full of concern.

She nodded. "Jelly." Rolling laughs burst from her lips. "That's a funny word. Who made that word up? Do you know?"

He sighed. "One fucking rum and coke and you're smashed. I take it you don't drink much."

"I want a popsicle. Do you have a popsicle?"

"I've got something you can suck." An unfamiliar voice came from behind Clary. She turned around to see Isabelle with a tall strapping man. The room started to spin into a fluorescent rainbow, she had to focus very hard to make out his features. He had dark hair, an angular face and rippling muscles that bulged under his white t-shirt.

"Oh shut up." Isabelle snickered. "This is my friend, Clary and my brother Jace."

Jace scowled, angry about the comment he made towards Clary. "And this is Meliorn."

"Mel." He interjected.

"Oh." Jace raised an eyebrow. "_You're_ the bouncer that wasn't supposed to let us in."

"Right." He wore a smug expression. "I'll hear it from Magnus later. But I couldn't turn down this hot little thing." He twirled Isabelle around, casting hungry looks down her body.

Jace scoffed. "Do you know how fucking old she is?"

He rolled his eyes. "Doesn't matter. Age of consent is seventeen in New York. And no girl under seventeen would be in a dress like that." Jace groaned in revulsion.

"Which is what I am!" Isabelle interjected, shooting a piercing glance at Jace, just daring him to tell the truth. He backed off. She wouldn't listen to him anyway.

"Can I borrow your phone?" Clary asked grabbing onto Jace's shoulder for support.

"Where's your phone?" He replied, worried she had lost it somewhere.

"It's in the car. I think I hear it ringing." She snickered loudly. "I have good ears."

He dug his phone out of his pocket and handed it to her. "Who are you calling?"

She gave a dazed half smile. "Someone to dance with." She punched the keys with her heavy fingers. The phone rang twice.

"Hello." The voice on the other end was warm and familiar, but Clary couldn't remember who she was trying to call.

"Hey." She replied.

"Clary! Oh my God! Is that you?" His voice was frantic, full of worry, but also relief. "Where the hell have you been? Are you okay?"

"Hey." She said again. "You want to dance?"

"Clary!" He was screaming now. "Where are you? It's loud. I can barely hear a word you're saying." She turned to Jace, he rattled off the Brooklyn address, and she repeated it into the phone. "Don't move! I'm coming!"

She clicked the phone closed, and handed it back to Jace. "Who was that?" He asked, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

She squinted and tried to think hard, but the answer wouldn't come. Her thoughts were sticky and confused like her memories were swimming in thick honey. "I don't know." She giggled, leaning into Jace. "You know." She said slowly. "You're really hot. Like super hot."

"Um, thanks." He replied. "I think we should get you some water."

"I like water."

"I'm glad." He called, as he pulled her through the crowd back towards the bar. "Pete, we need a water." The man grabbed one out of the ice bucket. The wet bottle dripped across the counter.

"Heeey Pete!" She chuckled. "I want another on of your special cokes. They're yummy."

"No!" Jace shouted. "No more fucking special cokes."

"Jeez man." Pete laughed. "Your chick can't hold her liquor. Why did you ask me to put all that extra rum in there?"

"What?" Jace shouted, his eyes nearly popping out of his head. "I asked you to keep it light. As in, just a little fucking rum."

"Oh! Shit dude, I'm sorry. I misunderstood. Loud as hell in here, you know. That drink was about three-fourths rum." He smiled apologetically.

"Fuck." Jace spat, and wrapped his arm around Clary. He started to drag her to the door. He elbowed and shoved people out of the way, trying to get Clary out of the mayhem. He finally reached the door, and slammed it behind him. Sitting down in the floor, he cradled her in his arms, making her drink the icy water. The air was cooler in the dim hall, and she stared up at him making funny faces.

"Jace." She whispered through snickers. "I thinks I'm drunk."

"Look at you." He chuckled. "Completely fucking hammered and sharp as a tack." He kissed her gently on the forehead, and she nuzzled into his chest. Suddenly, loud footsteps came bounding down the hall. Jace's head shot up, but Clary didn't move. She was relaxed, falling asleep in his arms. He squinted through the darkness, to see a short kid in an old band t-shirt and jeans. He looked frantic, scared to death. He came to a screeching halt in front of them.

"Clary!" He screamed, pushing his glasses back up his nose. Then he looked at Jace. His eyes were wide and raging. "Who the hell are you? Put her down right now!"

"Who the fuck are you?" Jace shouted back at him. "You better fucking back off before I put your scrawny ass through that window."

Clary's eyes fluttered open. After a few seconds her vision started to adjust. The room spun but a little slower than before. A familiar skinny frame started to come into focus. "Simon." She giggled. "What are you doing here?"

"You called me!" He screamed, completely exasperated. "Where the hell have you been Clary? I've been so worried. I thought you died! Then there was the murder. Holy shit, I've been going insane. It's been a week. I've called you, texted you, e-mailed you, every damn thing I know to do short of sending a Hogwart's owl. And what have I got? Nothing!"

"Simon." She groaned. "Why are you yelling at me? Are you mad?" Her whiny voice was starting to crack, as if she was about to sob.

"So you _are_ drunk! And in the hall of some strange apartment building with God knows who." He bent down to look into her eyes, willing her to understand. "Who is he Clary? Did he hurt you?"

Jace scoffed. "I didn't fucking hurt her, you insolent little prick. I'm her boyfriend."

"Boyfriend?" He cried. "She didn't know you a week ago, and now you're her boyfriend. You're lying."

"It's not lies." Clary squeaked. "Jace is hot."

"Yes Clary." Simon's tone was angry and sarcastic. "He's just hot buttered seduction on a stick."

Jace rolled his eyes, but he knew Simon was Clary's friend, and she'd be upset if he hurt him. As much as he wanted to throw a punch, he decided to explain instead. "She's been in Idris for the past week."

Simon furrowed his brows. "Oh that shit hole little town? Luke has a house out there. Doesn't he?"

"Yes." He sighed, trying to stay calm. "Her father is back. They had to leave the city."

"Oh shit." Simon's expression turned grave. "He found them. God, Clary must be freaking out, but why the hell didn't she call me. I would have come with them."

"It's kind of a fucking family matter. Don't you think?"

He shrugged off the comment. "And where do you play into all this? Jace is it?"

"We live next door." He replied, raking his fingers through his hair. "Jocelyn is friends with Mar…" he corrected himself, not wanting to explain more than was necessary, "my mother ."

Simon rolled his eyes, unconvinced and still fuming. "And you brought her back to the city to get her drunk and drag her into the empty hall for a little fun?"

"Fuck no." Jace screamed, trying to control his temper, but Simon was really starting to get under his skin. "My brother and sister are in there." He pointed to the door of the apartment. "She's my sister's friend, this was her fucking dumb idea." He shrugged. "You can go home now. I've got it under control."

"You're insane, if you think I'm going to leave Clary here with _you_." His expression turned from anger to shock. "Shit! What's that?" He pointed to her cast. "She's hurt! And I swear if I find out you did it, I'm going to fucking break your teeth."

"Look!" Jace's voice took on a new edge. "The _only_ reason I haven't fucked you up is because it would hurt Clary. I'm only going to take so much shit off you."

"Fine then." Simon huffed. "Let her go. My friend's van is parked on the curb. I'll take her home."

"No." He spat. "You won't. She doesn't live in this fucking city anymore."

"So, I'll take her to Idris." He countered.

"Go home Simon!"

"Not til' I know she's okay!"

"Fucking fine." Jace snapped. "But I'm taking her back inside, she needs a place to lie down. She didn't drink _that_ much. She can sleep it off in a couple of hours." Simon nodded and walked towards the door. Jace struggled to stand up, holding Clary tight to his chest. He scooped her up in his arms and motioned for Simon to open the door. Clary winced when the lights and music pounded down on them once again. "It's all right." Jace said. "We're gonna find a place for you to rest."

The three of them navigated their way through the sea of people. "Who's Magnus?" Simon asked, recalling the sign on the door.

Jace scanned the room, then nodded to his left. "In the green shirt."

Simon snorted. "My God." He chuckled. "He's dressed like a gay Flavor Flav." Jace wasn't amused. "There's a door over there." He snaked his way through the crowd, ignoring the strange looks people were giving Clary's still body. "Open it." He demanded, eyeing Simon angrily.

Simon followed directions, and twisted the rusty knob. The door opened and faint light spilled out onto the black floor. Simon stepped in, followed by Jace and Clary. He looked around; the walls were canary yellow, and there was a big black couch in the middle of the room. The light came from a hundred white burning candles scattered on the floor. "What do you think he fucking does in here?" Jace asked, confused by the strange surroundings.

Simon scratched his head. "I'm not sure, orgies, séances. By the looks of that guy, probably both."

"Whatever." Jace mumbled, as he laid Clary on the couch. He sat on the end, letting her head rest in his lap, deliberating leaving no room for Simon.

He rolled his eyes and sat in the corner on the floor. "How?" He whispered. "It just doesn't make sense. Clary is so shy. She'd never be with someone like you." His voice had lost all its anger, and given way to hopeless confusion.

Jace sighed, brushing her hair out of her face. "We just fucking get each other."

"And I don't?" He cried hopelessly. "You've known her for a week, and I've been her best friend since we were kids."

"Oh." Jace's eyes narrowed in on Simon. "I see. You're fucking jealous. You like her, and you never had the balls to tell her."

Simon scowled. "It's not like that. If I had wanted to, I'm sure we would have dated. I _do_ like her, but I'm just her friend." His voice was weak and unconvincing.

"Damn right you are! And don't forget it."

"You guys are just hanging out though. Right?" Simon had lost all his fight. "I mean it's only been a week. You didn't kiss her or anything?"

Jace snorted. "Do you really want me to torture you with the details?"

He shook his head. "It just happened so fast. I didn't expect this."

"No one fucking expected this. But it is what it is."

"I know." Simon sighed. "But you are taking care of her? Right? Watching out for her? I know she has to be terrified."

"Yeah." All the edge had left Jace's voice. It was hard to be mad at someone who so obviously cared for Clary. "I take care of her."

Simon forced a smile. "Thanks." He whispered. Jace nodded. He didn't know how to respond. Part of him was jealous, because he knew Simon knew Clary better than he did. But he also respected him. Despite his annoying personality, Simon was a good guy, and he was a loyal _friend_ to Clary. There was a long silence.

Simon chuckled as he looked at her sleeping body. "Who dressed her?"

Jace grinned. "My sister, Isabelle. She put her through an all day shopping trip, then made her up for two hours."

"Wow." Simon put his head in his hands. "That's brutal. She's never been really into that kinda thing."

"I don't think Isabelle's converted her or anything, but she does look pretty fucking stunning."

Simon nodded in agreement. "I've never seen her like this before. It's like she's a completely different person."

Jace looked at him with knowing eyes. "A lot has happened in the past week, crazy, unpredictable shit. She probably has changed." Simon looked disappointed. "Hey, why don't you go outside and have some fun? I'll introduce you to my sister, if you want. You can hang out with her."

"All right." He gave up, but at least he was convinced that Jace wasn't some creep, trying to take advantage of his best friend.

Suddenly the door opened, filling the room with the loud music. Magnus peeked his head in the door. His eyes grew wide when he saw Clary. "Um, please tell me you haven't turned my sitting room into a crime scene."

"No." Jace replied calmly. "She had a little too much to drink. She needed to rest."

"Oh." His glittered eyelids sparkled in the candle light. "You know, it is polite to ask before you go traipsing around others' houses."

"Sorry." Jace replied. The door opened a little wider. Alec stepped inside.

"Hey bro'." Alec smiled, obviously a little faded. "Clary have too much fun?"

"Yeah, she fucking lasted a whole half hour… rum and coke."

Alec chuckled, "It'll get you every time."

"Did you check on Isabelle?" Jace asked, trying to be considerate of his sister.

Magnus grinned, "I believe your sister and Mel were at a table in the corner… getting to know each other better."

"Ugh." Alec groaned. "That girl has no shame." His eyes fell upon Simon. "Who's this?" He asked, pointing towards his spot on the ground.

"I'm Simon." He pushed himself up off the floor. "Clary's best friend."

"Oh." Alec shot Jace a concerned glance.

"Why don't you take Simon outside?" Jace suggested. "Introduce him to some people, show him a good time. I'll wait here til' Clary wakes up."

"All right." Magnus nodded. "Come on little Simon. Ginger Snapp was looking for someone to dance with."

Simon's eyes grew wide. "Ginger Snapp?"

"Yeah." Magnus chuckled. "About a foot taller than you, but a lovely _lady _nonetheless." Simon hesitated but eventually followed Alec and Magnus out the door.

The party had heated up, nearly everyone was dancing and nearly everyone was buzzing on something. Out of the corner of his eye, Simon saw a big brawny guy in a white t-shirt, handing out pills. Ecstasy, he thought. "Simon." Magnus called, he whipped his head around, terrified of what he would see. "This is Ginger Snapp."

Simon gulped. A six-foot four inch man in a red wig and a sparkly evening gown loomed over him. "Hi." He squeaked.

"Aw Magnus." Ginger's voice was slightly feminine but also deep and intimidating. "He's too cute." Ginger took his hand and started to twirl him around to the music.

Simon let go and backed away. "Drink." He yelped. "I need a drink."

"Here you go sweet heart." Ginger pulled a glowing shot off a tray that was circulating around the room. He didn't even ask what it was. He threw back the drink and it burned, really burned. He coughed twice and asked for another. After three shots, he felt like partying with the drag queens.

After about an hour of dancing, the room started to become fuzzy. Ginger's make up looked like it was running. Red lipstick dripping down _her_ chin, eyes as big as footballs, and hair like a towering inferno. "Ginger." He stumbled. "You look sillies." The sounds of the party started to fade into a foggy silence, the bright neon colors washed out, turning to pastels… grays… black. He hit the floor with a hard thud.

In the sitting room, Clary was finally coming around. Her eyes fluttered open, and she let out a deep sigh. "Oh." She groaned. "My head hurts." She could hear her heartbeat in her brain. "Jace." She mumbled. "Where are we?"

He leaned down and kissed her throbbing forehead. "Still at the party, but we'll go soon."

"I'm sorry." She moaned. "I haven't been much fun tonight."

"It's okay." He whispered. "Just relax." His voice was soothing, as he caressed her hair.

There was a thunderous knock at the door. It flew open without invitation, and Alec burst in. "Jace!" He shouted. "Simon passed out. Cold! On the dance floor."

"Oh God." Clary groaned.

"Shit." Jace echoed. "What the fuck happened to him?"

"I don't know." Alec sighed. "He wasn't really drunk, just buzzing. Ginger said he only had three shots, but he took them off the tray. That thing was all over the room. God knows what was in them. Probably got a hold of a roofy."

He snorted. "Someone trying to take advantage of him?"

Alec rolled his eyes. "You shouldn't make jokes, he hit his head pretty hard. And if he did take something, it probably wasn't meant for him. Magnus thinks we need to get him to the hospital."

"Shit." He wiggled his way out from under Clary. "Get Isabelle. We're leaving."

"She's trashed." Alec sighed. "Magnus!" His new friend promptly stepped into the room. "Will you do us a favor and escort my sister and our red headed friend to the car? Jace and I need to get Simon."

"No problem." Magnus sighed. "But I hate you have to leave so soon. It's only one-thirty." Jace cast a wary glance at his brother and pulled him out of the room.

"Simon's over there." Alec shouted over the music. They pushed their way through the crowd, to find a group of drag queens huddled over a pile of scrawny boy in the floor.

"Oh fuck." Jace spat, reaching down to grab Simon's arm. "At least he's still breathing. You get his legs." Alec followed orders, and they carried Simon's corpse-like body into the hall. There they waited for Magnus to drag out Clary, who just held tight to his arm and Isabelle, who he practically had to carry. Jace and Alec lead the way down the stairs. They stumbled, trying not to drop Simon. Once outside, they tried to keep to the shadows, not wanting to attract any attention to their devious looking activity.

Magnus opened the door to the Honda, and Jace laid Simon across the front seat. Isabelle and Clary climbed into the back, where Isabelle quickly fell asleep, her cheek pressed against the cool window. "Call me tomorrow?" Magnus winked. Alec grinned and nodded, as he joined the girls in the backseat. Jace eyed the two of them curiously but wasn't in the mood to ask questions.

"You know where the closest hospital is?" Alec murmured.

"Yeah." Jace called. "Just four or five blocks away."

Clary was uncomfortable in the backseat, sitting on something hard. She thought it was the seatbelt. She put her hand underneath her, and instead pulled out her cell phone. The front panel was glowing, _1 New Text Message_. She opened the phone and read Luke's name, probably just telling her good night, she thought. After punching a button, the message popped up. It was short. Her heart sank as she read three little numbers, _911_.

"Oh shit!" She shouted. "Jace! We need to get home! Now!"

"What's wrong?" He asked, his tone exhausted but still full of concern.

"I got a text message from Luke." Her voice began to crack into a sob. "There's an emergency at home."

"What kind of emergency?" He demanded.

"I don't know. I'll send him a message, but God hurry."

"I'm sorry Clary. I'm driving as fast as I fucking can." He groaned loudly. "I've got to get Simon to the hospital first."

"I know." Tears started to fall, as her fingers frantically moved across the keys on her phone. _What's wrong?_ She wrote. She sat there, waiting anxiously for a reply. Minutes passed, and they arrived at the hospital. Alec and Jace carried Simon into the emergency room and explained what happened. They were back in the car in ten minutes. Clary climbed into the passenger's seat beside Jace.

"Anything?" Jace asked, a hopeful expression on his face. Clary shook her head, gripping her phone tightly in her palm. "It's all right." He whispered, wiping a stray tear from her cheek. "I'll get you home." His foot hit the gas, and he didn't look back. He drove nearly twenty miles-per-hour over the speed limit the entire way home. Under any other circumstances, Clary would have been screaming at him, terrified as he skidded around the curves, but tonight was different. She was terrified for other reasons, and she prodded him on, pleading with him to go faster.

After an hour and fifteen minutes of frantic driving, he skidded into the Lightwood driveway, taking out one of the trashcans. Clary looked across the yard, staring hard at her house. All the lights were on, the front door wide open. She leapt from the car, and Jace followed after. "Alec." He called behind him, as he ran. "Get Isabelle inside."

Clary stumbled through the grass in her heels, trying to move as fast as she could. Jace grabbed her cast, attempting to steady her. They crossed the yard quickly. Light from the living room spilled out on to the porch. The two of them burst inside.

A shrill scream escaped from Clary's lips. Her mother lay across the couch, bleeding furiously from her chest. Her green shirt, stained with dark liquid. "Mom." She cried, tears bursting from her eyes.

"Clary!" It was Luke's voice. She whipped her head around to see him standing over a bleeding man, a baseball bat gripped tight in his hand, and a bloody knife on the floor. Clary didn't recognize him. "He's not dead." Luke whispered. "Just passed out."

"What happened?" Clary sobbed, as she ran to her mother's side. She suddenly felt like all the wind had been knocked out of her.

"I'm okay." Jocelyn spoke in a breathy murmur. She lifted her shirt away. "Shallow wound."

"And a baseball bat to the head!" Luke interjected. "We were just getting ready to go to bed." His words were frantic and trembling. "We heard the window break in your room." Clary's heart nearly stopped. She held mother's hand tightly. That was Jace's window. She felt violated, a sick knot rose in the pit of her stomach. "Look." His voice was solemn and grave. He pulled up the sleeve on the man's forearm revealing a tattoo. "It's his mark." Clary stared hard at the ink on the man's arm. It was black and white, a circle made of bloody knives, a skull on the inside.

Jace stepped from the doorway, and Jocelyn's chin nearly hit the ground. She couldn't believe he was there. His eyes were wide with horror. "Loyalty to your brothers, the struggle for purity and death for the cause." His voice faded into a whisper, as he gulped back the lump in his throat. "The Shadow Hunter's symbol."

"Clary." Luke worked hard to calm his voice. "You can't stay here. He knows where we are. It's only a matter of time, maybe minutes, before Valentine himself pulls into our damn driveway. I have to take your mother to the hospital. And you have to leave." He pushed his glasses back up onto his head. "Jace. Take her. Get her out of here. I don't care where you go."

"No." Jocelyn screamed in protest. "She can come with us. She'll be safe in the hospital. We'll call the police."

"Jocelyn! Stop it! You know we aren't safe in this town anymore, not anywhere. When we call the police, who are they going to arrest? Valentine? No. They're gonna get this little prick." He kicked the body on the floor. "Valentine knows we're going to the hospital. Jace will take care of her. I know he will. Won't you?"

Jace nodded frantically. "Yeah of course I will."

There was a rumble of a car engine in the drive. Luke moved frantically towards Jocelyn, trying to pick her up off the couch. "Someone's here! Go!" He screamed. "Now!"

Jace stood there, panic washing over him. "How long?" He asked.

Luke shook his head, "Days, weeks, I don't know. However long it takes to make her safe. Now go Jace! Take her!" Jace ran across the room, ripping Clary from her mother's arms. A car door slammed outside. "Out the back." Luke shouted, pointing to the sliding glass door.

"Take care of her please." Jocelyn called, sobs crackling in her voice. "I love you Clary."

"I love you too mom." Tears poured from Clary's eyes, clouding her vision. Jace pulled her towards the door. She followed, tripping in her shoes. He steadied her, and hurried her out the door. They sprinted frantically through the grass, hearing a car idling in her driveway. "What if it's him?" She sobbed. "He could hurt them!"

"It's okay, keep moving. Luke will take care of her."

"We have to go back and help!" She cried, visions of her mother being slaughtered by Valentine flashed in her mind. Her head was still throbbing; everything was so overwhelming.

"No Clary! I promised them I'd take care of you. I have to get you out of here." She begrudgingly let him pull her through the grass. "Get in." He shouted, as they approached Alec's Honda.

"Where are we going?"

"I don't know." His voice was strangely, calm… emotionless. He'd become numb to the fear. "Away." She slid into the passenger's seat and he revved the engine, peeling out of the driveway. He adjusted the rearview mirror, taking one last look at Clary's house. "Shit." He screamed.

"What?" The glow of headlights filled the car. "Oh God."

"They're following us."

**A/N: **Oh no, whatever will they do? :D Thanks for reading! Reviews are hotter than Ginger Snapp.


	13. Scars

Forgotten Angels

_**Disclaimer: The Mortal Instruments Trilogy and all affiliated characters belong to Cassandra Clare**_

**A/N: This chapter is dedicated to babylopez2008, who helped me work some action into the angsty sob-fest. I have loads to accomplish in this chapter, so stick with me we may be all over the place. Hope you enjoy!**

**Chapter 12: Scars**

"Oh thank God." Clary let out a deep sigh of relief.

Jace's eyes were wide and confused. He punched the gas pedal all the way to the floor. "Are you still drunk?" He exclaimed. "I said they're fucking _following _us!" He checked the rearview mirror, a black sports car digging on their heels.

"I know what you said." Her voice was calm, and she relaxed into the seat. "That means my mom and Luke are all right."

He smirked at her. "You're incessantly thoughtful. Now, buckle-up, and you might want to close your eyes." She shuddered, as he skidded around a curve. Their pursuer didn't miss a beat. "Shit." He cursed. "He's fast. I can't outrun him."

"What are we going to do?" Some of the panic had returned to her voice, fear gripped her trembling body.

"I'll drive downtown, try to lose him in the crowd."

"Jace!" She shouted. "This is Idris, and it is three in the morning. I don't think they'll be much of a crowd _anywhere_." He was tired, his thoughts were muddled and hazy. He tried to concentrate on the road, tried to drive fast, and tried to think. It was overwhelming. "Jace!" Her frantic voice pulled him out of the fog. The ominous black car behind them was inching ever closer. Her heart hammered against the inside of her chest, as the street lights streaked by in a glowing blur.

He turned the corner onto main street, rapidly approaching a red light. Clary gulped, trying to control her erratic breathing. He quickly glanced both ways and stomped the gas. The engine roared forward, and he immediately slung the car into a left turn, then a right then a left, then another left. Clary's head was spinning, and he slammed on the breaks, nearly choking her with the seatbelt. His eyes were wide, as he stared intently through the windshield, almost afraid to look behind him. He hit the gas again, narrowly avoiding a mailbox. They hit sixty miles-per-hour, racing through a quiet, sleeping neighborhood.

"Fuck!" He cried, spotting the car's lights speeding towards them from a side street. The break lights flashed red in the darkness. The car hesitated, as it approached a stop sign. He sighed in relief, knowing that if the car slowed down, he'd have another chance to lose it. Then, as if the driver changed his mind, the car accelerated forward in a explosive burst of speed. "Oh God." His tone was grim, dripping with fear. Clary grabbed his leg, gripping his thigh tight with her fingers. Her knuckles quickly turned white.

Her heart leapt into her throat. "Jace!" She cried, her voice trembling violently. "He's not going to stop!" The car roared towards them. Clary closed her eyes, intense images of the black sports car t-boning them right into her side overwhelmed her frantic thoughts.

"Hold on!" He screamed, as he ferociously stomped his foot on the break with all the force his tired body could muster. Clary flew forward, nearly cracking her head on the windshield. Jace slammed hard into the steering wheel, all the wind left his lungs. He couldn't breathe, his eyes closed tightly, and his body became rigid, as he braced for impact. He could barely hear Clary's scream over the roaring squeal of the protesting breaks.

His eyes shot open just to in time to see the black car skidding inches in front of them. It plowed into a grassy, green bank. White smoke billowed from the engine, and he took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. But there was no time to watch, no time to see who crawled out of the driver's seat. Jace made a promise to keep Clary safe. He pushed the gas and sped away from the scene.

He could hear her heavy breaths in the seat beside him. "Are you okay?" The words were just a breathy murmur. She nodded, placing her hand on her heaving chest.

"Are you okay?" She asked in return.

"Yeah." He replied, as he clutched his ribs.

"You're hurt." Her eyes were full of concern. "I heard you hit the steering wheel. Is anything broken?" She was frantic. "What about your ribs?"

"Clary!" He forced a smile. "I'm fucking fine. No broken bones, probably some bruises, but I'll survive."

"God." She sighed. "Where the hell did you learn to drive like that?"

He chuckled, lightening the tense atmosphere. "_Need For Speed_."

Clary couldn't help but giggle. "And they say video games are a waste of time." She relaxed back into the seat, trying to slow her racing heart. Jace didn't slow down, he still drove as if they were being chased. "Where are we going?" She asked.

"The interstate. After that, I'm just not fucking sure." He nervously raked his fingers through his hair, hands still trembling. "You got any ideas?"

Clary shook her head. "No. The way I see it, we're pretty much fucked." He smirked at her use of _his _word. "We can't go home. We have no clothes and no money. We're under-aged, which means we can't get a hotel room, which means we can't sleep. But that doesn't really matter, because we have no money. So we can't eat or buy gas." Her voice faded off into a defeated silence.

"Calm down." His words were a quiet whisper. He put his hand on her thigh and caressed gently. "I'll take care of everything."

"Oh really? How exactly do you plan on getting us out of this shit?" Anger and frustration gave way to sobs. She felt hopeless.

"Clary, breathe! I've got plenty of cash on my debit card, and if it runs out all we have to do is call Maryse. She can wire money to my account." His tone suddenly became strangely proud and smug. "As for the under-age issue, well, I have a fake I.D."

A wide grin spread out across her face. "So my mother was right." She laughed. "You _are_ a delinquent."

He chuckled. "Sometimes it has it has it's advantages." He paused, forming a plan in his head. "I figure we'll drive south until sunrise. We can stop for breakfast, and get back on the road until two or so. We'll stop for lunch and find some clothes. Then we'll see if we can't check into a motel." Her heart fluttered at the idea. "I'm fucking exhausted."

"Me too." She sighed, wiping a bead of sweat from her forehead. Fear had drained all the life out of her. Her body felt weak. "Are you sure you can make it that long?"

"Yeah." He smiled. "We'll feel a whole lot better after we have some fucking breakfast. But you can sleep now if you want to."

"No." She interjected. "That isn't fair. I don't want to sleep until you can."

"Clary." He was pleading. "Don't be ridiculous. I have to drive, and you can't. So get some fucking sleep. I know you're tired, and you probably have a hell of a hangover." That was a painfully accurate assumption. Her head was pounding, and if she had eaten anything yesterday, she'd probably be hanging her head out the window, vomiting. Despite her discomfort, she shook her head. Jace growled in frustration. "Come on." He begged. "Just fucking try. Please! For me." His annoyed expression softened, as he leaned over and kissed her forehead softly. "I love you." He whispered.

Her weary eyes lit up, as her heart melted. There was no arguing with him now. "I love you too." She relaxed into the seat, rubbing her hands over her one cold and one casted arm. Her eyes fluttered closed just as they sped down the on-ramp to the dark interstate. Exhausted, she fell into a deep slumber.

Jace furiously fought the urge to close his eyes. His nerves were completely shot, too tired to be afraid. Aching all over, he let out a quiet groan. His arms seemed to vibrate with a dull throbbing pain from carrying Simon away from the party. His chest felt much worse, like someone had used him for batting practice. His tired body wanted nothing more than his thick mattress and warm brown duvet.

Well, maybe there was _one_ thing he wanted more. His weary eyes fell on Clary's sleeping frame. The bottom of her blue dress was rumpled, laying high on her thigh, leaving a mile of smooth exposed skin, and a deep V of cleavage silently heaved up and down with her heavy breaths. The sight stirred a powerful desire inside him. He suddenly felt very awake, and very disappointed. They were supposed to have the night together, alone and comfortable tucked away in his bed. But instead, they were fleeing their sanctuary, driving frantically into the night towards no where. He was crossing the New York state line, when he realized…_this_ is how Clary felt, lost and scared, no place to call home.

"Clary." He kept his voice soft. "The sun's coming up. Are you hungry?"

She groaned and wiped the sleep from her eyes. "Yeah. Where are we?"

"Somewhere in Pennsylvania. I'll take the next exit, and see if we can find a diner or something." He stretched his sore arms. "I could really use a fucking cup of coffee."

"Me too." She agreed, as her eyes adjusted to the dim violet glow of the rising sun. The clock on the dash said six a.m. She stretched her legs out as far as they'd go in the small car, then relaxed back into the seat. The blazing golden edge of the sun was just peeking over the horizon, slowly setting the fluffy morning clouds on fire. She couldn't help but reflect on the dramatic turn her life had taken in just the last week. Everything had been so mundane, so calm, like the still serenity of the dark hours just before dawn. Her world was pale, shades of gray. She went to school, joked with Simon and came home to spend time with her mother and Luke. There were no extremes. Every feeling, both good and bad, was insipidly mild. Now her world, like the sky that blazed outside, was on fire. Terror, pain, happiness, passion and _love_, this new life was a bittersweet medley of emotion. She glanced away from the golden sunrise and looked to Jace. He was tired, dark circles rimmed his deep blue eyes. Despite the danger, he was with her, connected by a madman, bonded by love. "It's worth it." She whispered.

"What?" He asked, as he turned on to the exit ramp.

"Nothing." She smiled. They drove quietly into a sleepy little town. The lights from one tiny corner diner spilled out into the street.

"This okay?" Jace didn't wait for her to answer, he pulled the car to a slow stop on the curb. She nodded, as he opened the door. Suddenly she became very aware of her disheveled party girl look. But she had a hard time caring, because ferocious hunger pangs rattled hard inside her empty stomach. The smell of frying bacon and brewing coffee filled the air around the diner. Jace took her hand, and they walked in.

The diner was clean, with yellow walls and white trim around the windows. It reminded Clary of someone's home, more than a restaurant. There were a few elderly people scattered around the room, sipping coffee and reading the newspaper. Jace led her to a booth in the far corner, away from the few other patrons. She slid into one of the benches and expected him to sit down on the other side of the table, but instead he scooted close beside her. Menus were already laid out in front of them.

In less than a minute, a middle aged woman with dark hair and kind eyes stood in front of them. Her expression was slightly confused, as if she was surprised to see them there. "Late night?" She smiled. They groaned and nodded simultaneously. "What can I get you two to drink?"

"Coffee." Jace said. "Black."

"Two please." Clary echoed.

"One second, I'll be back to take your orders." The waitress turned to leave, and Jace wrapped his arm around Clary's waist, like they were in the high school cafeteria. It was a comforting gesture. She cuddled into his side. "Two coffees." The waitress said, as she sat the steaming mugs in front of them. "Are you ready to order?"

"I am." His voice was extremely enthusiastic, given the early hour. He looked to Clary and she nodded. "I'll have the steak and eggs platter, medium, with a side of sausage and bacon."

Clary snorted. "You on Atkins?"

"Yeah, I'm watching my figure." He smirked and took a sip of coffee. The waitress and Clary snickered at him. It was very strange moment. His stern mask was completely gone, and they were in _public._ He acted cheerful, as though they hadn't been up all night, they hadn't nearly died in a fiery crash, and they weren't on the run from a sadistic killer. It made her feel at ease.

"And what for you, dear?" The waitresses asked, still smiling from Jace's joke.

"Blueberry pancakes, with bacon." Her stomach growled at the thought.

"It'll just be a few minutes." She turned and walked back to the counter, shouting their order to the man in the kitchen.

Clary rested her head on Jace's shoulder, and he kissed her lightly on the cheek. "You're in an awfully good mood this morning, considering the circumstances."

"I feel pretty good."

"Why?" She giggled. "You haven't slept in nearly twenty-four hours and you're planning on driving another six."

"Luke trusted me with you." He brushed a lock of hair out of her face. "That fucking means a lot. He knows I'll take care of you. People don't usually treat me like that. Other than you, of course."

"Well, I don't think it was his intention to send me off with any guy for an indefinite amount of time."

"No." He smirked. "Probably not. But we're together and despite how insanely fucked up this whole thing is, at least we get some time to ourselves." His Adam's apple bobbed, as he gulped his coffee. "And now your mother knows, and we won't have to hide anything."

"That's what I was thinking in the car. This whole thing is so horrible and terrifying. But we're together. And you know what?"

"What?" He smiled.

"That absolutely makes it worthwhile."

"Oh God Clary, don't say that. It's ridiculous. Spending time with me is not worth having some fucking whack-job after you."

"Oh shut the fuck up!" She spoke a little too loudly, elderly heads were starting to turn. "I try to be sincere, and you give me all this smug bullshit. I meant what I said."

He leaned down and kissed her cheek. "That's my girl, my fucking crazy girl." There was no malice or anger in his tone, only blissful surprise and contentment.

"Steak and eggs." The waitress said, as she laid the heaping plate in front of Jace. "And blueberry pancakes." There wasn't much talking after that. Something about being up all night made them hungrier than usual. Clary tried to be neat, as she cut off small bites of pancake with her fork. Jace, on the other hand, ate like a true carnivore, drowning everything in blood red ketchup. She found his sloppiness amusing, and in some strange primal way, sexy.

When they were finished, Jace left a hefty tip on the table and paid for the meal with his card. Stomachs full, they headed back to the car. "Ready to hit the road again?"

She nodded, clutching two Styrofoam coffee cups. "I'll try to stay awake with you this time."

"Yeah." He smirked. "We'll see." It took about half an hour of the gentle rock of the speeding car to coax Clary into a deep sleep. Her coffee went cold, sitting in the cup-holder. Jace just smiled. As tired as he was, it made him feel good to see her rest. He tried to remain vigilant, jittery caffeine induced energy coursed through his veins. He looked at every car that passed, especially black sports cars. He searched the road for familiar faces, familiar symbols, anything that looked suspicious. He exited every hundred miles for another cup of coffee, and to make sure they weren't being followed. A few days ago, there was nothing more he wanted than to be able to protect Clary all the time; he got his wish.

Clary woke to the buzz of her phone against her leg. Her eyes slowly fluttered open, the clock on the dash said twelve p.m. "I'm sorry." She groaned. "I didn't mean to fall asleep." Jace just smiled as she picked up the phone. _Luke_, was written across the glowing screen. She pushed the speaker phone button. "Hello." Her voice was barely a whisper.

"Hey." Luke was overflowing with relief.. "God, it's so good to hear your voice. Are you and Jace okay?"

"We're fine." Clary replied, trying to sound as reassuring as possible. "We ran into a little trouble last night, trying to get out of town. That car, that was in our driveway, followed us. But um…" She paused. "Jace lost them. How's mom?"

"She's all right. She has a concussion. We've been at the hospital since you two left last night." A deep exhausted sigh escaped his lips. "We called the police when we got here, but whoever brokey into our house was gone by the time they arrived."

"Shit!" She cried, casting a frustrated glance towards Jace. "So no one was even arrested last night?"

"No." Luke replied, defeat in his voice.

"So what are you going to do after mom gets out of the hospital? Where are you going to go?"

"Clary." His voice was stern. "We're not going anywhere. Your mother and I are tired of running. The police have been alerted, and we're going to have a security system installed. No matter how far or how long we run, he's going to find us. We're just delaying the inevitable. We'll be prepared, and at least this way we can end this thing…soon. We can't live in fear forever."

"But Luke!" Her voice started to crack into a sob. "You're just going to go home and wait for Valentine? He could kill you!"

"Clary, please don't be upset. I promise we'll be prepared for him. I'll take care of your mother, and we'll get this shit over with. So we can get back to our lives."

"Luke!" She cried. "It's too dangerous."

"Don't worry. I'll take care of everything, and I know you're safe with Jace." Jace turned to her, a wide grin spread across his face. "Your mother isn't too happy about that by the way. But she's warming up to the idea."

"Don't try to change the subject." She sobbed. "I can't believe you're not leaving Idris. It's suicide. How could you Luke?"

"I'm sorry." He sighed. "We're just doing what we think is best. He's a man Clary; he has weaknesses just like everyone else. Valentine isn't indestructible. And I'll be damned if he's going to scare me out of my own house."

"So _that's_ what this is all about, ignorant pride." Her words were full of venom.

"No Clary, it's about reclaiming our life, our safety and for God's sake, our sanity. This is no way to live."

"Promise me you'll both be okay."

"I-I'm not…" He stumbled over a response.

"Promise me!" She demanded.

"I promise Clary, I promise."

"Luke," Her voice was slightly more composed. "I love you, and tell mom I love her too."

"I will, and I love you too." He hesitated for a moment. "Is Jace there? Can I talk to him?" Jace's eyes widened, as he let out a groan.

"Yeah, here he is." She sighed, holding the phone to Jace's mouth while he drove.

"Uh… Hey Luke." He was unsure of what to say.

"Jace." He paused. "I just wanted to thank you for this. I know you'll take care of her. Do you guy's have money? I don't want you sleeping in the car or anything."

"I've got plenty of cash on my card, and if we run low Maryse can wire more into my account."

"Good." His voice was full of relief. "I'll call her later, and make sure to send some money. Do you know where you're staying tonight?"

"No." Jace replied. "We're going to have some lunch and go shopping. We need clothes and shit. Then I'm going to get a room." Clary could hear Luke cringe on the other end of the phone. Jace found it amusing. "I'm exhausted."

"Okay." Luke's voice was wary. "Um…" He stumbled over his words. "J-Jace, I know you two are…romantically involved." Clary started to blush. "But, whatever you do, and I'm absolutely begging you to do nothing, please be responsible. Her mom said she's on the pill." Clary buried her face in her hands. "But do you, you know have protection?"

"Don't worry." Jace replied, dodging the question. "I've got to go. We need gas." She looked at the indicator on the dash, they still had just over a quarter of a tank. "Call us if anything happens."

"All right." Luke said, a little annoyance in his voice. "Bye."

"Bye." Jace closed the phone, and burst into hysteric laughter.

Clary rolled her eyes, "Well that was awkward."

"Now we really have to stop at the gas station." His tone was playful and teasing.

"Why?" She asked. "Pointing to the dashboard."

"I _have_ to fucking buy condoms." He smirked. "Trojan or durex? Do you like strawberry flavored? Or may glow-in-the-dark?"

"Oh God." Her cheeks were blazing. "I can't believe you. Luke embarrasses me, and you think it's hilarious."

"Aw, come on Clary." He chuckled. "He's just looking out for you. Doesn't want you bringing home any Jace juniors. Do you think they'd have red or blonde hair?"

"Fuck!" She cried, now thoroughly mortified. "Let's just not talk any more. How about some music?" She pushed the button labeled CD, and Alec's annoying punk music filled the car.

Jace immediately turned it down. "I'm sorry." He snickered. "I'm just teasing. But honestly, there's no fucking reason for you to be embarrassed about that kind of stuff with me anyway."

"It's not you." She sighed. "But when Luke gets involved, and tries to have those _7th__ Heaven _heart to hearts with _you_, things get a little traumatic."

"Don't worry about it." He whispered, leaning down to kiss her on the cheek. "And just so you know, I hope they'd have red hair."

She giggled, all the embarrassment gone. "I think we should be together at least _two weeks _before we start thinking about children."

He smirked. "You're probably right." He turned the music back up and they cruised for another half hour.

He exited into a small town in southern Pennsylvania. They stopped at a little café for lunch and went in search of a place to buy to clothes. There were a couple of clothing stores on main street. "Let's try the thrift store first." Clary suggested. "Maybe we can get three or four pairs of jeans."

He nodded. "You know, Isabelle would fucking shoot you for even considering that."

She rolled her eyes. "Well Isabelle isn't here, and I think this trip calls for some practicality." She led him into the store, and they split up to go in their various sections. Clary was pleased with the selection. They had almost an entire rack of jeans in her size. Some were vintage with holes and patches and others were more sophisticated straight legged dark washed pants. She picked out four pairs and a few matching tops. Finding Jace, she saw that he had had an equally successful search. For all those clothes, they only spent thirty-five dollars.

After the thrift store, it was on to more delicate matters. She needed some form of pajamas and underwear. There was a lingerie store next door, and she walked past it hesitantly. "Do we need to stop there?" Jace asked, pointing to the store. She thought about it for a second, but didn't speak "Oh come on. Are you going to wash the ones you're wearing everyday?"

She started to blush, "Um… actually." She giggled. "Isabelle wouldn't let me wear panties with this dress."

His eyes lit up, a hint of pink appeared on his cheeks. "Well I guess that settles it then." He pulled her through the door. The store didn't exactly have the kind of underwear Clary was used to wearing, no striped boy-cut panties with cartoon characters. Everything was barely there, satin and lace. The saleslady was staring at them. Clary looked to Jace, he was painfully uncomfortable. "Um, you know what? I think I'm going to go to the men's store across the street. Here's my card." He quickly dug his wallet out of his back pocket. "Get whatever you need." With that, he turned and nearly sprinted out the door. Clary couldn't hold back her giggles.

She felt a little more at ease, without him staring uncomfortably over her shoulder. She picked a few pairs of lacey panties with matching bras, the most revealing she'd ever owned. Then finally she had to settle on a purple satin baby-doll to sleep in, at least it reminded her of the pajamas she wore at home. Any money they had saved at the thrift store was lost there, one-hundred and fifty dollars. She felt bad, but also a little devious. It never left her mind that Jace would see her in the things she bought.

When she left the store, she started to walk across the street, but instead he screamed her name. "Clary!" He shouted, already leaning against the car, holding his bag. "Are your ready to go?" She nodded and hurried towards him. He opened the trunk, and she carelessly tossed her shopping bag inside. Some of the contents spilled out. "Fuck!" He cried, picking up the little purple nightie. His eyes were wide and excited. "Please tell me this came with garters."

"Shut up!" She shouted, grabbing the garment from his hands and stuffing it back in the bag. "Let's go." They climbed back inside the car, and drove to a grocery store, where they bought some necessary toiletries, and some snacks and drinks for the road.

The clock on the dash said three p.m. The dark circles under Jace's eyes were growing heavier by the second. "Are you ready to you look for a fucking room?" He sighed.

"Yes!" She groaned. "You must be exhausted."

"No. I was exhausted six hours ago. Now I just feel kinda high, I probably shouldn't fucking drive anyway." He rubbed his tired and eyes and pressed the gas. He stopped two blocks away at the first motel they spotted. It wasn't the Ritz-Carlton, but it would do. "Just wait here." He said, as he killed the engine. "Pray my fucking I.D. works." She nodded, as he slid out of his seat.

He walked in the front door, to find a young man sitting behind the desk. He was clean cut, with jet black hair and tiny glasses. "Can I help you?" He eyed Jace warily.

"I'd like a room please." It almost hurt him to be polite.

"Just one night?" The man started to tap on his computer keys. Jace nodded. "All of our two bed rooms are booked, will a single king be all right?"

He flashed a wry but hesitant smile. "That's fine."

Clary tapped her fingers impatiently on the dashboard. After fifteen minutes of waiting, Jace finally stepped out the front door, a wide grin on his face, and two room keys in his hand. She got out of the car, and walked around to the trunk. He opened it, and they grabbed their bags, heading for room 114.

She nearly dropped everything, when she saw the king sized bed in the middle of the floor. Clary didn't know what she expected, but it hadn't dawned on her that they'd be sharing a bed. It wasn't an unpleasant realization, it just made her nervous and excited. The room was dim, with heavy curtains pulled over the window. The walls were cream, and the duvet had a crimson floral pattern. There were pictures of landscapes on the wall, and one lit lamp casting a faint glow over the dark carpet. Sitting the bags on the floor, she noticed the ice bucket on the table and the hot cokes Jace carried under his arm. "I'll just go fill this up." She blurted, quickly grabbing the bucket, and walking out of the room.

When she got back, Jace was gone. She half expected to see him sound asleep on the bed, but he wasn't there. She shrugged it off, thinking he was probably getting something from the car. She tried to lay down, but she felt sticky and dirty. It was hot at the party last night, she had run frantically across her yard, and held on tight during a car chase… she really needed a shower. Peeling her tired body off the bed, she walked to the bathroom.

Opening the door, she saw Jace standing there. Her eyes grew wide, as her heart leapt into her throat. She took in the image. He was completely naked, his back turned to her. Her breath hitched. A thick muscular back, bulging biceps, an ass to die for and lean strong thighs. He was beautiful. Desire stirred deep inside her. Then she finally noticed them, as if they hadn't been there at first glance. He was covered in scars, some long gashes, others just tiny faint dots. Some were red and angry and others were fading pale pink.

He whipped his head around, to find her standing there, staring at this his body. The look in his eyes wasn't the hungry desire that Clary longed for, but instead they were filled with hurt anger. "Get out!" He screamed, his voice harsh and cracking. She let out a gasp and slammed the door. Sitting on the bed, she was confused and wounded. He hadn't spoken to her like that since the first night they met. Even then, he hadn't meant it. It was just part of his mask. But now, he was genuinely upset and she wasn't sure why. His body was scarred, but why would he even think that mattered to her. Unable to hold back the tears, she buried her head in the pillow. She heard the shower turn on.

Fifteen minutes later, the bathroom door opened. She turned her head to see Jace in light blue plaid boxers and a white shirt, tiny droplets of water dripped off his golden hair. His eyes, like Clary's, were rimmed red from tears. She gulped, trying to push back the lump in her throat, and wiped her red cheeks.

"I didn't want you to fucking see it like that." He whispered.

"See what?" She knew what he was talking about.

"My fucking scars." His voice began to crack. "I know it's fucking disgusting. I just wanted to warn you first." She could see the pain and vulnerability in his eyes. All the lighthearted cheerfulness, and playful teasing was gone. He was ashamed, and suddenly everything started to make sense: why he was the only guy wearing a shirt in P.E., why he made it a point to say he kept his shirt on when he had sex with Aline, and why he wouldn't let Clary touch his back when she tried to massage him the other night. There it was, a constant reminder of the pain he endured as a child, permanently etched into his delicate skin. Her heart broke for him.

"It's not disgusting." She whispered.

"Yes it is Clary." He cried. "Don't fucking try to make me feel better."

She moved closer to him, wiping a stray tear that streamed down his cheek. "Jace." She sighed. "My mom has them too, you know. It's not your fault. It just shows how much you've been through. Honestly," her voice began to crack, "I didn't even notice them at first. Your body is beautiful."

"No." His voice was just a quiet sob, the lump in his throat preventing him from speaking.

"Let me prove it to you." She put her hands on his waist, tucking her fingers under the cotton t-shirt. Then she lifted up.

"No." He protested weakly, large tears rolling down his cheeks. "Please fucking stop."

"Ssshhh." She whispered. "It'll be all right." He didn't fight her anymore. She lifted his shirt over his head, and gently pushed him back on to the bed. Wiping the tears from his eyes, she sat beside him and leaned down, pressing her warm lips to a long scar on his hard muscular chest.

"Knife." He murmured. "When I was eight." She cried quietly and moved on, planting a soft kiss on his ribs. "Cigarette burn, when I was six." Her tears wet his skin, but still she continued. Her lips touched his chiseled abdomen. His body was stunning and heartbreaking, like a desecrated statue. "Broken beer bottle, when I was nine." Clary didn't stop until she kissed every one of his scars, and through tears, he told her how he got each one. They didn't go away; the angry redness didn't fade. But the burden of wearing them did. The physical scars remained, but the emotional ones paled at her touch.

She wiped the last tears from his eyes, and cuddled into his side. "I love you." She whispered.

"I love you too." His voice was a quiet murmur. She held him tight, the way he had held her so many times over the past week. As she caressed his cheek, his weary mind finally crawled into the dark.

**A/N**: Aw, poor Jace. A little bit of smut coming soon, if you're into that kind of thing. Thanks for reading! Reviews are hotter than purple baby-dolls and garters!


	14. Unashamed

**Forgotten Angels**

_Disclaimer: The Mortal Instruments Trilogy and all affiliated characters belong to Cassandra Clare_

A/N: Okay, so this one is short and smutty, but in a tasteful sort of way. If that offends you, then I suggest you turn back here. I wrote it so you wouldn't miss anything vitally important to the plot if you didn't read this chapter. Thanks for the reviews! Hope you enjoy!

**Chapter 13: Unashamed**

She slept there, holding Jace for nearly four hours. When Clary's eyes fluttered open the room was shrouded in heavy shadows, not even a crack of sunlight penetrated the thick curtains. Groaning quietly, she wiped the sleep from her eyes. The clock on the bedside table flashed a red nine p.m. Jace snored quietly beside her, still fast asleep. A peaceful, nearly angelic expression graced his angular features, his muscular chest heaving in the darkness.

Gently, she pulled herself away from his warm body and crept across the thin carpet to the bathroom. Flipping the light switch on, her reflection was illuminated in the gaping mirror that stretched across the bathroom wall. She cringed at the bright fluorescent glow, and _her_ appearance. Isabelle's perfect hairstyle had been beaten and battered into a tangled fiery mop. Her cheeks were cherry red, stained with tears, and the perfect blue dress was a wrinkled fashion disaster. She unzipped the back and slid it down her body. A sigh of relief escaped her lips. It felt so good to have that tight uncomfortable thing off her sore tired body. She longed for her pajama pants, but knew that a baby-doll and lacey panties awaited. Shaking off the thought, she turned the knob on the shower.

Jace had already left her body-wash and shampoo on the side of the tub. He was really very thoughtful. The warm water felt amazing, like she was washing away all the fear, hurt, sadness and pain from the previous day. She hadn't realized how tense she was until the warm water, relaxed the knotted muscles in her back. Hanging her cast outside the shower curtain, she carefully washed the sticky hairspray from her red locks. Then lathered her body in thick lavender scented suds. She found a package of disposable razors on the counter and had a thorough and meticulous shave. After the shower, she brushed her teeth and tied her hair up in a fluffy white towel.

Finally, she felt clean and relaxed. Tiptoeing out of the bathroom, she found her bag from the lingerie store and fished out a pair of black panties and her purple nightie. Checking the room, she saw Jace still lost in a deep sleep. She dropped her towel and pulled the satin over her head. Once dressed, Clary was unsure of what to do with herself. There was a large television set in front of the bed, but she didn't want to wake Jace. Instead, she turned on the lamp, pulled the chair out from under the little wooden desk, and grabbed a pen and tiny pad of paper from the drawer. A faint glow from the lamp illuminated Jace's sleeping body. Without thinking, she found herself sketching his angular features and tousled golden hair. This time, her pencil went farther than usual, drawing his delicious muscular V shaped torso, that pointed to parts unknown. Desire stirred deep inside, as her pen attempted to replicate his chiseled abdomen. His boxers rested low on his hips, revealing an intricate network of bones and muscles, reminiscent of the lean brawn of Michelangelo's _David_. His body was begging to be touched. Her breath hitched, and she gripped her fingers tight around the pen.

The peaceful silence was abruptly broken by a ringing cell phone. Jace groaned and stretched, slapping his hand frantically on the bedside table in search of his phone. Finally his hand found the cold plastic. "Fuck." He groaned. "It's Alec." He flipped the phone open. "Hey." He said groggily.

"Hey bro'!" Alec's voice was relieved and enthusiastic. "How's it goin? Are you and Clary all right?"

"Yeah, I was fucking sleeping. But we're okay." If Jace expected an apology, he didn't get one.

"In _my _car?" Alec was obviously a little annoyed.

"No. We're in a motel, somewhere in southern Pennsylvania."

"Pennsylvania! Look! I know you two were in kind of a predicament last night." He sighed. "But grand theft auto is a serious crime."

Jace chuckled. "Yeah sorry, I meant to ask. Can I fucking borrow your car?"

"Yeah, mom's getting me a rental tomorrow. Isabelle won't take your bike to school, something about the helmet messing her hair up." Jace sighed in relief; he didn't like the idea of anyone else on his motorcycle. "Speaking of mom, she's royally pissed at you. She almost cried when Luke called this afternoon, saying you'd run off with Clary."

"Fuck." He groaned. "We didn't run off. We were fucking chased out of town. We're not eloping, just laying low for a while." Clary cringed, the conversation wasn't going well.

"Mom told us about Clary's dad." His voice grew quiet and serious. "You should be careful. I wish you had just stayed here man. It's not your battle; I hear this guy is pretty crazy. You don't know what he's capable of."

"Alec, you don't have a fucking clue. Tell _Maryse_ that this is personal. She'll know what you mean."

"Man, I know you like Clary, but honestly I don't know how good of an idea it is to get involved in her problems, they're serious…deathly serious."

His brother's ignorance made his blood boil. "I love Clary, and this fucking _problem_ is just as much mine as it is hers." He gripped the phone tight in his hand.

"Jace, come on. You've known the girl for a week. It's a little early to be laying your life on the line for her. Clary's great, but you're my family. I just don't want you to do anything stupid. Look, if you feel guilty about hurting her, you know that whole basketball thing wasn't your fault. Right?"

"Is _that_ what you think this is?" Guilt?" His voice was full of venom. "Fuck you! And why don't you ask your fucking lying mother why this is my problem?" He slammed the phone closed and threw it across the room. It fell to the carpet with a quiet thud. Horrible feelings of self-reproach washed over Clary. She finally understood how Jace felt when she fought with her mother. It was terrible coming between family members, who obviously had each other's best interests at heart.

"I'm sorry." She whispered.

He let out a sigh and stretched back out on the bed. "It's not your fault. He doesn't understand, and Maryse still hasn't fucking told them yet. Why won't she just fucking admit that she knew Valentine?"

"I don't know." Clary pulled the wet towel from her hair. "Maybe she's ashamed, or maybe it's too painful for her to talk about. She was my mother's friend. Maybe she was his friend too." Wet red locks fell to her shoulders. They made her shiver.

"Alec thinks I'm crazy." Clary grimaced at his annoyance. "But I don't care!" Jace cried. "You know that right? I don't give a shit what he thinks. This is about you and me and," without thinking, he touched the scar on his chest, "our demons."

Clary nodded, "Don't let it get to you. He'll understand soon enough."

"I know." He sighed, wiping the remnants of sleep from his eyes. "How long have you been awake?"

Her eyes traveled to the clock, "About an hour and a half."

Her furrowed his brows. "What are you doing over there?"

"Just some sketching."

He smiled, his interest piqued. "Can I see?"

Clary's cheeks blushed, as he pushed himself off the bed. "It's um…" She stumbled over an explanation. "You. You looked very peaceful. I wanted to put it on paper."

He chuckled, as his eyes fell upon her drawing. "Did I sleep through a scene from _Titanic_?"

She giggled. "Um, you didn't have the blue necklace, and you certainly weren't _that_ naked."

"Well, you didn't ask." He smirked. "It's good though. Doesn't look anything like me, but still nicely done."

"What are you talking about?" She sighed, exasperated. "It looks exactly like you! I thought I was very precise with the detail."

"Clary," he chuckled, "this looks like my head on Sylvester Stallone's body."

"Oh shut up!" She cried, turning to look him in the eyes. "That is definitely _your_ body."

"No it's not." He calmly interjected. "Those biceps are too big, the abs are too defined, and I don't have Superman's pecks."

She rolled her eyes, utterly annoyed. She moved her eyes down his long body, "I think it's pretty accurate." She meant to sound angry, but instead the words were a breathy whisper. Something about being that close to him made it hard for her to form a coherent thought. She lightly traced a single finger from his chest to his bellybutton. His eyes closed, and a light groan echoed from the pit of his being. A devilish grin danced on his lips. He took her hands and pulled her out of the chair.

The purple satin caught the light. His breath hitched. "Wow." His eyes were wide and excited, taking in every inch of bare skin. "You look beautiful." Clary's cheeks flushed, the fabric felt thin, like his eyes could go right through it. "Come to bed with me?" She didn't respond, couldn't respond. Her thoughts were muddled, and her knees were weak. Unsure if she could walk, she let him lead her to the other side of the room. He pushed back the duvet, and she slid in. He laid down beside her, and she cuddle into his side. "You're cold." He whispered, feeling her chilled arm. "Come here." He scooped her up into his arms and laid her gently on top of his body. She rested her head on his bare chest, as he stroked her wet hair.

Clary's head was spinning, her stomach full of butterflies. It was one of the most intimate moments they had ever shared. Their bodies pressed tightly together, feeling each other breathe, skin to skin. The purple satin had ridden up somewhere around her waist, leaving the lacy panties to rest against his cotton boxers. He pushed her wet locks out of the way and lightly massaged the square of bare skin on her back. She felt some of the tension relax, and she nuzzled deeper into his chest. She took in his scent, clean, masculine and comforting…like Jace.

He sighed and lifted her chin. Putting her hands on the bed, one on each side of his head, she lifted herself slightly to stare into his eyes. They were deep blue but overflowing with the hungry desire she'd wanted so badly to see earlier. He'd never looked at her quite like that before. There was no more shame or hurt; the last remnants of red tears had faded from his fair cheeks. The smoldering lust, that burned in his eyes on the morning they spent in the back of Alec's car, was gone. He looked vulnerable, but not scared, like he was ready to reveal a secret. Finally, it dawned on her what she was seeing. It was written all over his face, plain as day…love. It was love! Her heart skipped a beat at the thought, and a wide grin spread out across her face. She felt waves of heat radiate off his body.

Jace gazed back at her, getting lost in the deep green pools. He could see the excitement in her eyes. She wanted him; _she loved him_. Despite the cursing, despite the scars, she was still with him. Clary had some sort of miraculous ability to look past his glaring faults and somehow find his humanity…his soul…his heart. At that moment, he was tired of trying to hide it from her. He was hers, and there was no reason to fight it. The mask was gone, and he felt raw, naked, exposed but no longer ashamed.

His lips met hers with eager anticipation. The kiss was slow at first, as they savored each other's full, warm, moist lips. He tasted delicious and sweet, like mint until it faded into just his flavor. Raw electricity flowed between them. He sucked lightly on her bottom lip, massaging it gently. She panted against his mouth, before pushing him back onto the pillow. Their lips met again, this time with slightly more force. Their tongues touched gently, sending a jolt of electricity through Clary's body. She shivered, but wanted more. Her tongue plunged into his mouth, searching for his. They met anxiously, caressing as she whimpered. Jace groaned, a deep, guttural sound full of longing. His hands began to creep up her sides, fingers massaging deep into the satin. She broke the kiss. "Take it off." The words were a breathy whisper, but a demand nonetheless.

He gently rolled her off of him. "Clary, I don't have a condom. You wouldn't let me buy them. Remember?"

"Oh." Something about that word, _condom_, suddenly brought her crashing back to earth. They were on the verge of making a very serious decision, a decision she wasn't sure she was supposed to make. She started to tremble. Before Jace, she never considered having sex at sixteen. It seemed stupid; it was something _those _kind of girls did, not Clary. But things had changed so drastically in the past week, and she didn't feel like a teenager anymore. She felt _old_ and not in a good way. Teenagers were supposed to worry about what to wear to the prom, not how they were going to escape from a sadistic killer. No, her age wasn't an issue anymore. This was about something else. It wasn't Jace. She wanted Jace, really, really wanted Jace. "It's okay." She whispered. "I think I'm scared."

"Clary." He caressed her cheek, his eyes full of concern. "You don't have to do anything. You know that right? I don't want to put any pressure on you." He was sincere.

"No, it's not that." She was insistent. "It's just…" She hesitated. "Things are moving really fast, and I've never done this before. It's supposed to hurt the first time. Right?"

He sighed. "Yeah, but I'm aware of that Clary. You can talk to me. If it's too uncomfortable, I'll stop." He paused, trying to clear his thoughts. "And of course, that isn't something we have to do right away."

"I know." Her voice was torn and defeated. "It's just, I want to have that kind of relationship with you. I love you, and I'm ready." She touched his chest with her fingertips.

"I love you too." He smiled knowingly. "But we can go a little slower. We don't have to do anything that requires a condom _tonight_. Especially since I don't have one." He chuckled.

She let out a quiet sigh of relief. "What did you have in mind?"

That devilish grin was back on his lips. He leaned in close to whisper in her ear. "Just relax, okay? You don't even have to do anything if you don't want to." It wasn't what she expected to hear, but her anxiety fell to a manageable level. She stopped trembling. He knew what that meant. He was going to have to be very unselfish. But this wasn't about him, it was about Clary and making her comfortable. "I want you to enjoy this." All the desire was back in his voice. He planted a light kiss on her cheek. It sent shivers down her spine. She was ready, practically aching for him.

He sat up and laid her back on the bed. She tried but couldn't seem to wipe the smirk off her face. He leaned down to kiss her. Their lips connected with a fierce passion. He sucked her bottom lip, as she wrapped her uncasted arm around the back of his neck. Tangling her fingers into his golden hair, she pulled lightly, earning a groan of pleasure against her lips. "Oh God Clary, I fucking love it when you do that." He plunged his tongue into her mouth, making her whimper. All she could think about was how good he tasted; her body was on fire.

She felt his hands on her thighs, lightly caressing the bare flesh, higher and higher. Her breath hitched. His fingertips were on the lace. Her heart leapt into her throat. She was dripping in anticipation, needing his touch. "Jace." It was more of a moan than a whisper, a pleading beg for him to continue. He caressed her tongue with his before moving across her jaw line, planting long urgent kisses. He nibbled her ear lightly with his teeth, inching the satin higher. His hand was resting on her stomach, and she could feel him, pressing against her leg. His arousal made her bones turn to liquid. All the breath left her chest. Her thoughts were clouded with desire. But she didn't need to think anymore, her body took over. She was shamelessly thrusting her hips into the air, feeling the bulge of his cotton boxers on her bare skin.

Removing her hand from his hair, she ran it down his warm hard body, his chest, ribs, abs… "Clary!" His voice was an urgent whisper. "You don't have to."

She moaned feeling his palm resting on her bare stomach. "I want to." She took the bulge in her hand; the cotton was stretched to the point of bursting. His eyes closed, and he threw his head back. A deep groan of pure pleasure escaped his lips. She smiled wickedly, thoroughly enjoying making him feel good. She tightened her grip, then released. He sighed and settled back into her neck, nibbling and kissing her smooth skin. Pushing the thick satin strap off her shoulder, he licked the long line of her collarbone. His lips moved down, while his hand moved up. Clary could feel him, inching closer. Her body was tingling all over. Stiff peaks had already risen through her shirt.

"Are you ready?" He whispered. She moaned a reply, that could only be interpreted as a yes. Lifting herself off the bed, he pulled the purple baby-doll over her head. "God Clary, you're beautiful." She didn't have time to feel self-conscious; he was on her. He kissed her chest, while his fingers flirted with the edge of her lacy black panties. She couldn't help herself; she found her hands gently guiding his head downward. He kissed the tops of her breasts, long and lovingly, savoring the moment. She whimpered and arched her back, begging him. He took a stiff pink peak in his mouth, sucking gently, making circles with his tongue. Her skin tasted clean and delicious. A moan of pleasure escaped her lips. His eyes flickered up to see the satisfied look on her face, a smirk lit up his features before he took the other peak in his mouth. She gave another moan and tangled her fingers back into his hair. When she pulled, he sucked harder.

His fingers started to outline the lace edge of her panties, moving in rhythmic circles over her thigh then across her mound. Her hips began to rise off the bed, pleading for him to touch her. Mouth still on her breast, he slid a single finger between her thighs. Her loud moan sent electricity coursing through his veins. Even through the panties, he could tell she was aroused. "Mmmm." He groaned, trying to go slow but aching to touch her.

She slid her hand back down his body, mimicking his movements. Her fingers flirted with the edge of his low slung boxers, diving under the elastic and back out again. It was a tease, but he liked it. She could tell by the way he twitched through the cotton. Clary liked it, loved it. He _wanted_ her to touch him, practically begging for it. But she couldn't concentrate, he was rubbing her now, two fingers stroking firmly between her thighs.

Suddenly he shifted, removing his mouth from her chest. He sat up and tucked his fingers under the lace. She lifted her hips, as if to say, _yes_. He slid the lacey panties down her legs and threw them to the floor. She laid there for a quick moment, completely nude and unashamed, but suddenly grateful for the shave. Heat was radiating in waves off her body. She wanted him more than anything she'd ever wanted in her entire life. He stretched out back beside her, his body was hot against hers. He buried his head back into her neck, kissing, nibbling, taking long slow licks.

His hand was on her thigh, his palm making circles over her bare skin. Her hips rose off the bed. She was wet, aroused, waiting for his touch. Finally his finger traced up the smooth bare flesh between her thighs. She shuddered, eyes wide and breath hitching uncontrollably. "Jace." She moaned in his ear, as his fingers explored her wet folds. The bulge in his boxers was pulsating, aching to be touched.

Head back on the pillow, and eyes closed, her hips rocked rhythmically against his hand, pushing him deeper and deeper until a single finger slid inside. He moved in and out, slowly at first then quickened his pace. He couldn't pull his eyes away from his working fingers. It made him groan and twitch in anticipation, while she panted hot breaths against his ear. He quickly removed his hand from her body, bringing his slick fingers to his mouth. His lips opened, and he sucked the moisture from his fingers, tasting her. It a strong gesture, masculine, and full of desire. His eyes closed savoring her before his fingers returned to her body. Wet, it slid easily inside.

His thumb moved in circles between her pouting lips, while his finger worked in and out. She felt it building inside of her, something foreign but exciting, hot and electric. With every touch the intensity rose, until she couldn't hold it anymore. The passion boiled over sending powerful waves of pleasure rolling through her entire body. She writhed against him, moaning his name in utter blissful satisfaction. With one last caress over her smooth mound, his hand left her wet flesh. Her head hit the pillow, bare chest heaving with ragged tired breaths.

Her eyes fluttered open and stared again into the deep blue pools. She could tell what he wanted, but she knew he would never ask. He stared at her tired body, pleased about what he had accomplished. Her desire had faded into a peaceful exhaustion, but he was still on fire, even more after watching her climax right in front of him. He didn't expect anything in return, trying to remember that this wasn't about him. But he needed relief, one way or the other. He silently wondered if it would be an inappropriate time to excuse himself to the bathroom.

She lifted herself from her position on the bed, and leaned over him. Unsure of what was going on, he gave her a confused look. She flashed a devilish smile, tucking her fingers under the elastic in his boxers. He tentatively lifted his hips, giving her an opportunity to stop… she didn't. She slid the cotton over the bulge and all the way down his legs, crumpling them up into a ball and throwing them to the floor. Cuddling back into his side, she caressed down his torso, savoring the feeling of every inch of skin and every thick muscle. Then she took him in her grip, stroking his hard shaft slowly up and down, more of a tease than a meaningful touch. His eyes nearly rolled back in his head. She grasped him a little more firmly, a deep groan erupted from his throat. His heart began to race, breathing erratically.

Her eyes fell on his face, a serene expression of utter bliss lighting up his angular features, as she stroked him. She liked it, relished making him feel good. She pushed herself up from his side, and sat next to his writhing body. Bending down, his eyes shot open, watching her. She licked her lips, parting them slightly. "Clary!" He interjected. "You don't have to." He meant what he said, but his body was silently begging for her to continue. She did. Wrapping her lips around his thick shaft. He shuddered and twitched as he tongue glided up an down.

It suddenly became hard to hold back. He was threatening to explode, and he wasn't sure how much longer he could last. Watching her lips, and feeling her sucking the heat and intensity started to build. Then she grabbed him, massaging them lightly in her hands. It was too much, he couldn't hold back. He reached down to touch her hair. Her eyes fluttered up, green and devilish. "Clary, I c-can't." He was stumbling over the words. "I'm going to…"

"Shhh." She moaned and panted against him, hot breaths wafting over his arousal. He groaned and almost rolled his eyes. At that moment, he gained a new appreciation for her inherent difficultness. He tried to control his writhing, but she took it a little deeper each time, tongue working in eager circles. His body began to shudder, irrepressible waves of pleasure rolling through him. Jerking erratically between her lips, there was no holding back. It was hot, so sexy but also made him cringe, unsure of how Clary would react to the inevitable. With one last tremor, he surrendered. He watched her expression cautiously, but she didn't look displeased. Her throat bobbed lightly, as she swallowed. She looked up to, a tiny smirk on her face. He smiled back at her, holding out his arms.

Falling into his chest, they were exhausted but utterly satisfied. He kissed her gently on the forehead, still smiling in disbelief at what had just happened. She was _his _girl. He held her tight, skin against skin, a new level of closeness radiating between them. Open and unashamed, they loved each other.

**A/N**: Ahh, that was fun. Although I asked my boyfriend for help with describing the Jace parts, and he now thinks I'm crazy. Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoy. Reviews are hotter than… well…that.


	15. Face of the Enemy

**Forgotten Angels**

_Disclaimer: The Mortal Instruments Trilogy and all affiliated characters belong to Cassandra Clare_

A/N: Sorry this took so long to update. This week has been an absolute nightmare. Serious family issues, ending in near tragedy. But writing gets my mind off of things. Thanks for the reviews. Hope you enjoy!

**Chapter 14: Face of the Enemy **

A faint streak of early morning sunshine gleamed on the crimson carpet. Clary was slowly waking from the heavy fog of a vivid dream. It was a steamy fantasy her blissful mind created as an extension of the previous night's events. She took a deep breath…Jace. His scent was warm and inviting. Her opening eyes were greeted with the sight of his bare muscular chest, heaving with slow breaths. A smirk danced on her lips, as she nuzzled into him.

"Clary." He whispered sleepily, touching her frazzled hair.

"Good morning." Her voice was a quiet but cheerful murmur. "Did you sleep well?"

His arms tightened around her. "Best fucking night of my life." She giggled lightly and lifted her casted arm to touch his messy hair. Looking down, her eyes grew wide; she saw nothing but miles of bare skin. A red heat burned her cheeks. They were still nude. Quickly laying her arm back down, she covered her chest. A deep chuckle burst from his lips. "Don't tell me you're going to be shy now?"

"Guess you have a point there."

A wide grin spread across his face. "I just can't fucking believe you did that." She tried to hide her blush. "You said you were scared. I was just going to cruise into second base, didn't even expect anything in return. And look at you! You fucking one up-ed me." His voice was full of shocked excitement. "If I had known you were going to do that then I would have set the bar a little higher."

She didn't respond just tried to hold him tighter. The longer she laid there, the less naked she felt. He had that unique effect on her, a strange mix of vulnerability and security. Jace made her weak at the knees. Sometimes it was hard to speak when she stared into his big blue eyes, but he also made her feel safe and comfortable like someone she'd known her entire life. She guessed that's what love was, baring it all and being okay with it.

He groaned and looked at the clock. "I guess we need to start getting ready. Check-out is at eleven." He planted one last urgent kiss on her lips, and her eyes followed his sculpted body all the way to the bathroom. The faint sunlight glowed around his silhouette, giving his skin a golden gleam. It was breathtaking; she didn't even see the scars. A serene happiness washed over her still body. It felt as though her skin couldn't contain it joy. It was as if yellow beams of light were going to burst from her fingertips. Then he was gone, the bathroom door shut behind him.

She stretched and moaned, trying to work all the soreness out of her muscles. The big bed felt cold and empty without Jace. Waiting for the shower to start, she pushed herself out of the bed and made her way across the cheap carpet. It could have waited a few minutes, but it felt like a good time to brush her teeth or comb her hair, or make up any excuse to get into that bathroom. She knocked lightly on the door.

"Come in." He replied, a hint of excitement and curiosity in his voice.

She opened the door and stepped in. His head peeked out from behind the shower curtain; a smirk lit up his face. "Just brushing my teeth." She chimed in the most innocent voice she could muster. The bright lights burned her eyes, but she wasn't displeased with her reflection. She looked different. Her hair was a tangled fiery mess, but her expression was some how changed, more confident, more womanly.

He furrowed his brows, looking at her still nude body. "You know that lingerie was expensive."

"Want me to put it on?"

"Nope." He chuckled, as she reached for the toothbrush. "What are you fucking waiting for?" His tone was belligerent but still playful.

"What?" She asked, trying to hold back a smirk that pulled at her lips. She knew exactly what he was asking, but it was more fun to make him say it.

"Get your ass in here." It wasn't so much a command as an urgent plea. But she didn't protest. The toothbrush dropped into the sink, and she stepped into the steamy shower. He immediately took her in his arms, and she looked up, deep blue pools. Her knees felt weak, and his lips were eager. The kiss was warm and wet, full of nervous urgency, all his hard muscles pressed against her body. Butterflies stirred in her stomach, and it was over too soon. He pulled back. "Sorry, we really have to fucking get out here."

She sighed, a little disappointed. "Since when did you become the voice of reason?"

"I'd just feel a lot better if we got a little more space between you and Idris before we stay somewhere for more than one night. We've probably already been here too fucking long." He stepped back into the water and raked a handful of shampoo through his hair.

She rolled her eyes, feeling strange about trying to argue naked. It was difficult to form coherent thoughts. "I think you're being a little overcautious. We're an entire state away. No on followed us out of town. Valentine and his little club aren't going to find us, not here in the middle of no where."

"Clary." Anger flashed in his eyes, his voice was shaky and nervous. "Don't be fucking naïve. You don't know your father. You don't know what he's capable of, and you don't know the lengths he'll go to get something he wants." Her eyes followed the suds as they ran down his body. It was difficult to concentrate on the words. "Hello! Are you listening?"

"Well." She struggled with a response. "We'll do what you think is best." Normally she didn't have a problem disagreeing with Jace, but this was about their safety, and he _did_ have a lot more experience with Valentine than she did. So she gave in and promised to make up for the kiss later.

"Good, now come here." He pulled her closer and guided her cast outside the front of the curtain. The warm water splashed in her face. It was energizing, clearing some of the last sleepy cobwebs from her thoughts. His fingers ran through her wet hair. She shuddered, desire awakening deep inside.

"What are you doing?" She asked through a deep satisfied sigh.

"Washing your hair. I fucking handicapped you. So I figure the least I can do is help out."

"Oh would you shut up! We are not having that conversation again. That was an accident, and if this is what I get in return then it was worth a broken bone."

"You're crazy." It wasn't an insult. He rolled his eyes and chuckled. "I would have gladly showered with you without all the fucking injuries." She blushed as he lathered her hair. "God, how do you fucking deal with this all the time?" He picked the wet locks up off her shoulders. "There's so much of it."

"So you're not going into cosmetology anytime soon?" She giggled lightly, but it was forced. She could barely breathe with him touching her. She wanted to wrap her arms around him, touch him, kiss him. The fiery tension was overwhelming.

"Probably not." He rinsed the last traces of suds from her hair and stepped out of the shower. "I'll let you finish up."

She nodded and tried to catch her breath. Her head was spinning. The word "Wow" slipped from her lips in a breathy whisper. When she was done washing, she turned off the shower and pulled the curtain. Jace was still standing there, a towel wrapped around his waist. He grabbed another white fluffy one from the rack and held it out to Clary. She lifted her arms, and with a little smirk, he wrapped it around her dripping torso.

"Thanks." She smiled.

He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. "I'm going to get dressed. Hurry. Okay? We need to get the fuck out of here." There was a nervous edge to his voice that made her anxious. It was so hard to believe that they were in any danger. Far away from home, happy and in love, that fear she felt just a day ago seemed like a distant memory.

After a quick blast of the dryer, she threw her damp hair into a messy bun. Jace was already dressed in a brown t-shirt and dark jeans. He stood ready, leaning against the wall, his bags waiting by the door. Without a second thought, she dropped her towel and got dressed. Like a true gentleman, he turned his head. Clutching Alec's keys tight in his palm, he was anxious to leave. He fidgeted nervously, staring at the tiny silver trinkets in his hand. Car key, house key, basement key, and one other. He didn't recognized it immediately. Then it finally dawned on him, an idea, a destination, somewhere faraway and safe, a place for himself and Clary. It was the key to the Lightwood's beach condo. Jace had only been there a few times. It was mostly a romantic destination for Robert and Maryse when they needed to get away from Idris. But he had driven Alec and Isabelle there last summer. He was almost certain he knew the way.

His eyes shot up, as Clary pulled her blue t-shirt over her head. "Do you like the ocean?"

"What?" She giggled, a little confused.

"Alec has a key to their beach condo." A light of excitement flickered in his eyes. "If you'd like, we could spend some time there."

"Where is it?" She asked, her interest suddenly excited.

He let out a deep sigh, and raked his fingers through his hair "North Carolina."

"North Carolina!" She groaned at the thought of staying in the car that long. "It's going to take forever to get there."

"Like we have anything else to do."

He had a point. They had nowhere else to go. "So what? We're just going to go on vacation?" Her voice was full of skepticism. The idea sounded so right and so wrong. Going to beach with Jace would be an amazing opportunity, that she wouldn't get under any other circumstances. But Luke and her mother were stuck in Idris living in a constant state of fear. She couldn't just go off and have fun. It wasn't fair.

There was a deep sadness in his eyes. "We don't have to be miserable."

"Trust me Jace, I'm far from miserable, but I'm starting to feel guilty about it. I mean my mom is in the hospital, and Luke is waiting on a madman to attack them. It just doesn't seem right."

"Clary, Luke asked me to keep you safe. Do you think he wants you to fucking worry yourself to death? What good will that do?"

She shook her head, "I just don't want to be any farther away from them, incase something happens."

"I'm supposed to get you as far away as possible, because something _is_ going to happen, something really fucking bad, Clary." His words were forceful but concerned. "And I don't want you involved. Luke doesn't want you involved and your mother damn sure doesn't want you involved."

"Jace." Tears started pricking at her eyes. Her voice became shaky. "They're my parents, and I love them. I'm worried, and I'm scared they're going to get hurt. Or worse."

"I know." He started making his way across the room. "I'm so sorry Clary. But nothing would make them happier than knowing you're far away. Trust Luke, he'll take care of your mother. You know he loves her." She nodded, as he wiped a single tear from her cheek. His strong arms were around her. "And I love you." He whispered. "Let me keep you safe."

"I love you too." She took a deep breath and tried to gain some composure. "All right, let's get out of here." He smiled and took her hand. They collected their last few belongings and walked to the silver Honda. The summer sun was warm and energizing, immediately lifting their spirits. Clary sat in the front seat while Jace returned the room keys to the front desk.

He was back outside in just a few minutes. "We need to get gas, and a few things you wouldn't let me buy yesterday." A light blush glowed on her cheeks, why couldn't he just say condoms? "Do you have a preference?" He chuckled.

"We're not starting this again. Get what you want. I'm not exactly experienced."

"Me either." He smirked. "I think I'll call Luke for advice."

"Shut up!" She shouted, as he pulled into a crowded Shell gas station. It must have been the only one in town.

"Sit tight." He unbuckled his seatbelt, and started to step out. "They're a lot of people here. Lock your door." She nodded and followed directions. Sitting there quietly, she listened to the sound of rushing gas fill the tank. She closed her eyes and basked in the warm sun, radiating through the windshield. Before she knew it, there was a knock at the window.

Without opening her eyes, she hit the unlock button. "Back already?" She chimed, curious about what he bought. The door swung open, and her head shot up. It seemed like her beating heart came to a screeching halt. It wasn't Jace. The man was tall and thin with cropped dark hair and pale skin. He was dressed in all black, an unusual sight given the blazing summer heat. His face was creased with shallow wrinkles, and dotted with dark spiky stubble. He held something silver and shiny, mostly concealed in his sleeve. Clary's eyes grew wide; she was in danger. All the fear she had so easily forgotten came crashing back on top of her, burying her under its crippling weight. Her chest heaved with jagged erratic breaths. Red flags and warning bells were going off in her head. Her hands began to tremble. She wanted to scream, but the sound died on her dry lips.

He put his hand on her knee. She shuddered at his cold unwelcome touch. "How kind of you to let me in." He whispered. "Don't be afraid Clarissa. Your father misses you." His voice was eerily calm. "He'll be so pleased when I tell him I found you." She was shaking uncontrollably. This was it, what she had feared for so long. Valentine's men were going to take her. He pulled back his sleeve, revealing a long knife and a tattoo. She recognized that mark, the skull and the circle of knives. He put his hand on her cheek. "You really are a pretty little thing." Her shaky hand reached for the door handle. Did she dare to make an escape? "No!" He shouted, raising the knife to her throat. The blade pressed hard into her windpipe. "You little bitch. Do what I say, or I'll fucking gut you right here in this damn car! I don't give a shit if you live or die. Understand?"

She nodded, a thousand thoughts rushing through her panicked mind. Jace was right. They weren't safe. She didn't know what to hope for. She wanted his help, wanted to be rescued, but she didn't want him to get hurt. "Get out of the car." He demanded. "Don't say a word. I'll cut your fucking throat in front of everyone." He had a crazy look in his dark eyes that made Clary certain he wasn't bluffing. She opened the door and stepped cautiously out of the car. He hurried around to her side, concealed his knife and gripped her wrist with all his strength. "Black van. Now." He nodded towards a vehicle only a few paces away. She took a deep breath and forced herself to put one foot in front of the other. The man slid open the door and forced her inside. It happened so fast. In less than a minute, she went from blissful comfort to unspeakable danger.

"Clary!" Jace's panicked voice echoed in the distance. Her heart overflowed with both relief and a new wave of fear. He took off in a frantic run towards the van.

The man pushed her hard into the floorboard and climbed in, slamming the door behind them. "Drive." He screamed, and the van took off. All the color drained from Jace's face. He felt nauseous. He stood there for a moment, hands trembling violently, just watching as the black van pulled away. His heart broke with his promise to Clary. He didn't keep her safe.

"Hey kid." An elderly man looked up at him from his gas pump. "You okay? Did you know that girl?"

He quickly snapped out of the fear induced daze. "Shit!" He cried, feeling defeated. The man looked at him strangely, but Jace didn't bother to respond. He ran to the car, and the quiet engine purred to life. He stomped on the gas.

Clary was fighting to hold back tears. She didn't want to show any sign of weakness. The van smelled musty and dark, like wet dirt. The brown vinyl seats were torn and deteriorating. "Tie her up." The driver shouted to the man in the back. His voice sounded strangely familiar, but she just couldn't seem to place him. "I'll call Valentine, see what he wants to do with her."

"Okay, but she was with some kid. He was inside when I took her, but he could be trouble." He looked down at Clary. "He really should have kept a better eye on you. You're too pretty to be left alone." He made her skin crawl.

"Nah." The driver replied casually. "He may call the police, but we'll be long gone before they get here. Don't worry about it." His tone suddenly became gravely serious. "Just fucking tie her up. I have to make the phone call." The man reached over the seat and pulled out a large coil of thick, yellow, synthetic rope.

He pulled Clary out of the floorboard. She elbowed him fiercely in the ribs. He winced, but smiled menacingly. "Play nice Clarissa." He hissed the words in her ear and licked a long line just below her jaw. His hot breath was disgusting, like stale beer. His sharp stubble scraped against her skin. She flinched and wiped his saliva from her neck, stomach twisting into sick knots. Something horrible was going to happen to her; she felt it in the pit of her being.

"Val?" The driver talked quietly on the phone in the front of the van. "Yeah it's Doc. We got her." He paused. "At a gas station in southern Pennsylvania. They were just there." He sounded surprised. "The boy left her alone in the car. It was too damn easy." Another pause. "What the fuck are we supposed to do with her until then?" He sighed, slightly annoyed. "Fine. We'll be there in a few days."

"A few days?" The man echoed beside Clary, struggling to tie a knot around her cast. "Doesn't he want her now?"

"That bitch is in the hospital." Clary's heart sank. They were talking about her mom. "Apparently Jim busted her up pretty bad. Val can't get to her until the end of the week."

He huffed, exasperated. "Hear that precious?" The man whispered in her ear. "You're ours for the next four days." He licked his lips, making her stomach turn. "We're going to have fun."

"You're disgusting!" She spat.

"Oh don't worry your pretty little head about it. By the end of the week, it won't matter what we do to you." He pulled the hair tie from her bun. "Your daddy's got big plans for you and your mother. It really is a pity, so young, so much _vitality_."

She gulped hard, as he tightened the ropes. "What are you talking about?" She knew the answer; she knew all along what her father had planned for her.

He smiled, showing yellow stained teeth. "Let's just say, he considers you a sacrifice he's willing to make." Clary's breath hitched. It was no surprise, but his words rattled her like an earthquake. She couldn't die, not now, not at sixteen-years-old. Her eyes stung with tears. She tried her best to blink them back, telling herself to think of Jace. He wouldn't leave her; she would get out of this.

"Shut the fuck up!" The driver shouted. "You don't have to tell every damn thing you know. You need to shut your fucking mouth and start thinking about what we're going to do with that little bitch until Friday."

"Let's just take her back to Idris. She can stay with me." He winked at Clary. "I have a big basement." She shuddered, trying to push out the disturbing mental image.

"No dumbass, that's too risky. She lives in Idris now. Someone could recognize her."

"What about a hotel?"

"Good fucking idea." His voice was filled with angry sarcasm. "I'm sure no one will notice the two men dragging in the tied up little girl. We'll have to find some sort of abandoned building, leave her there for a few days." He let out a deep breath and adjusted the rearview mirror. He stared at it for a moment, a nervous expression creasing his features. "What was that kid driving?"

"A little silver thing. I don't remember what it was."

He sighed, annoyed. "What kind of car was it Clary?"

She furrowed her brows. He didn't call her Clarissa. "Why did you call me that?" He turned his head, finally looking her straight in the eye. All the wind left her lungs, as she stared into the face of the enemy. "Dr. Verlac!" Her voice was an astonished murmur. She hadn't gotten a good look at him in the emergency room. Her vision had been cloudy from the fall, but still something seemed very different about him. He had appeared to be compassionate and quick witted, but now she could see him clearly. There was something very unsettling about his eyes. They were piercingly dark, making her feel cold all over. When it came to stature, he wasn't an impressive man, perfectly average in every way. He had dark hair and a chiseled angular face. Clary thought he probably would have been handsome in his younger days. But he had a strange air about him, tremendously intelligent but also cruel and calculating. He was dangerous.

"That _is_ what you mother calls you. Isn't it, Clary? You _did_ pick a bad time to break your arm. Just a few hours later and we would have never met. Is that your blonde boy toy you were with, the one who lied to me about being your bother?" She nodded slightly, still too stunned to speak. "And please tell me dear, what does he drive?" His kindness was disgustingly false. She had found his personality somewhat charming in the hospital, but now she could see him for what he truly was, a manipulator.

"Toyota, Camry." How stupid did they think she was?

"You wouldn't lie to me. Would you Clary? Because you know what will happen if you lie to us." His voice shook with anger, all the false kindness gone. "We'll fucking kill you."

She shuddered, but the threat didn't hold as much weight as it should have. They had a job to do and someone to answer to. Clarissa Fairchild wasn't theirs to kill. Her father wanted her blood on his hands. But even if she did think they would kill her, nothing could make her put Jace in danger.

"He can kill you." The man said touching her still damp hair. "I've got _other_ things on my mind." She was unsure if he was serious or just trying to scare her, but if she had eaten breakfast she would have thrown up on him. "How much fucking longer are we going to drive?" He whined. "Let's just stash her somewhere and find a bar. I need a damn drink."

"Shut the fuck up." The doctor replied. "I'm the one that's driven for two damn days, and unless you want the police to find her, because you know that little prick boyfriend of hers has already called them, then we need to stay on the road for another couple of hours."

"Clarissa wouldn't try to escape." He rested his hand on her thigh, and she started to tremble again. "Would you?" She shook her head, mostly out of fear. "Of course not, you like me too much. Don't you?" His hand inched higher. She gulped hard, trying to push back the rising lump in her throat. Her restrained arms ached behind her when she tried to lean back onto the seat. "You look awfully tired Clarissa. I think you should get some rest. You heard the Doc, it's going to be a long ride. You can lay your head on my shoulder."

She glared at him, piercing icy daggers. "Fuck off, asshole." The words were quiet but full of venom. Jace would have been proud.

Anger flashed in his eyes. "You fucking little whore. I should have cut you in that car when I had the chance." He pulled his hand from her thigh and grabbed her hair in his fist. He gripped tightly, making her wince in pain. Suddenly he pulled her violently to the side, wrenching her neck and smashing her head into the window. She expected to hear the pane shatter, but instead it was just the unnatural ring of her skull hitting the glass.

Burning pain radiated from the throbbing point on her head. She waited for the warm flow of blood but never felt it. Her vision went spotty, and the van started to spin. She relaxed back into the grimy seat.

"Damnit Sebastian!" The doctor screamed and slammed on his breaks. Clary slid out of the seat and into the floorboard. He whipped his head around, the look in his eye was pure fury. "What the fuck is wrong with you? That is Valentine's daughter! We can't take her to the hospital if she has a fucking concussion. And if she dies, so do we. I'm not going to get my fucking throat cut because you're a dumbass."

"Val won't kill us." His voice faltered with uncertainty. "He doesn't care about this little bitch anyway."

"You know damn well he'll kill us if we aren't loyal to him." The van accelerated forward again. "He may not give a shit about her, but he wants her back. Alive! You know what we're trying to do, and it's a hell of a lot more important than teaching some smart ass kid a lesson." He sighed, frustrated. "Sometimes I can't believe you're my damn brother."

That confirmed Clary's suspicions. They wouldn't kill her, but that didn't mean she wasn't going to get hurt. Her father was insane, and even these men were afraid of him. It was becoming more difficult to think. The throbbing pain in her head was clouding her thoughts. She felt tired, like she had to close her eyes. Her head fell against the cold metal of the floorboard, and everything went black.

When the world finally came into focus, the van was stopped. The hot afternoon was starting to melt away into twilight. She lifted herself from the floorboard, head throbbing. She felt dizzy and sore. Both men were sitting in the front, arguing. She stared hard out the window, but there were no other cars. They were a back road, shaded by large green trees and completely deserted. There was an abandoned barn, withering and decrepit. Her heart sank. She had no idea where they were, and there was no one who could help her. It had been hours since she had seen Jace, and she was starting to lose hope. "Good morning princess!" Sebastian sneered at her mockingly. "I hope the accommodations are to your liking." He nodded towards the barn.

"Just shut the fuck up." The doctor yelled. "Get her out. I'll get the chloroform." Clary shuddered, as Sebastian climbed over the seat. They were going to drug her, and she didn't want to think about what he was going to do when she couldn't fight back. Sebastian locked her in his arms and dragged her out of the van. She surveyed the scene, and fear washed over her tired body. The barn was a massive wooden structure, all the red paint was chipped away exposing thin weathered planks. It looked as though a swift breeze would knock it down. "Inside. Now!" The doctor directed, pointing to the barn. Sebastian dragged her forward and kicked the door open, breaking the rusted hinges with a loud creak.

The barn was dim and littered with discarded rusted tools and stacks of hay. The air was thick, smelling of mold and decay. Doctor Verlac was only a few steps behind, carrying a rag. He walked into the shadows and handed it to his brother. "You just rest here." Sebastian whispered the words in her ear. "We'll be back for you in a few hours sweetheart. Then _we_'ll have our fun." His arm gripped around her waist tightly. She tried to kick, flail, anything, but he didn't budge. He pressed his lips against her cheek; then the rag was over her mouth and nose.

She gasped for breath, but her lungs filled with the pungent chemical scent. She felt herself weakening, the darkness was taking over again. This was worse than the head injury. She didn't feel like she needed to sleep. She felt like she was dying, drowning in the darkness. It was pulling her down, and she couldn't fight it. His grip loosened around her body. She staggered, legs weak and limp. Her body fought to put her hands out to cushion the fall, but they were still tied tight behind her back. Falling forward, her chest crashed into the ground. All the air left her lungs, and she succumbed to the blackness.

**A/N:** Wow, that took a long time. It's a lot easier to write about sweet things than scary ones. Hopefully it did the job. Thanks for reading! Reviews are better than showers for two!


	16. Worry and Pain

**Forgotten Angels**

_Disclaimer: The Mortal Instruments Trilogy and all affiliated characters belong to Cassandra Clare_

A/N: I can't tell you how sorry I am that this has taken so long. Last semester was hell, and I've just gotten recently motivated to write for fun again. I promise I plan on finishing the story, and hopefully in a timely manner. Writing this story has been very therapeutic. I get to rant and curse and love and cry.

**Chapter 15: Worry and Pain **

"Shit." He screamed, slamming his hands into the steering wheel. He had been following the black van at a careful distance for five solid hours. But now they were gone, lost somewhere on a back road. That sick, defeated feeling started to take over, twisting his stomach into tight knots. He felt stupid. He was going to be the hero, going to swoop in and rescue Clary, but now she was gone, and he hadn't called the police. Who did he think he was, fucking Lancelot or something? He was about to die like Romeo. He left her alone with Valentine's men for hours, and his hope was starting to fade.

He felt like he was driving in circles in some small town in northern Pennsylvania. He lost them off the exit ramp, and there were at least four visible winding back roads splayed out before him. His heart was pounding uncontrollably. Taking one of the roads meant leaving the exit open. Sitting still meant leaving Clary alone with them even longer. There was no good choice. He raked his fingers nervously through his sweaty hair, as the car came to a stop in a grassy corridor beside the exit ramp. The Honda purred as it idled. Clary's phone beeped and buzzed in the passenger's seat with missed calls and messages. He couldn't bring himself to answer it. Lying to Luke and Jocelyn would be impossible and at that point, incredibly wrong.

His chest grew tighter as unfamiliar cars passed. A red Camry, a silver F-150, a green mustang, no black van. "Fuck!" The frustration and anxiety were overwhelming. He almost felt dizzy, but he knew he couldn't give into exhaustion. Eyes wide open, he meticulously scanned the landscape. The bright blue sky was fading into a hazy gray dusk. It was as if the sun was being pulled towards the horizon more quickly than usual. He _had_ to find her before dark.

Then, there it was. Like a shining beacon from heaven, a familiar black van rolled to a halt at stop sign just yards away. If Jace hadn't been staring at it all day, he might have mistaken it for another vehicle. It looked different than it had this morning, dirtier, thick brown mud spatters on the tires. He inched the Honda forward, not bothering to look for other cars. His gaze was locked, desperately searching the dark tinted interior for a tousled mop of red hair. He saw nothing in the backseat, not even a shadow.

The van pulled out into the street, and he punched the gas, excited but trying to trail at a careful distance. Surprisingly, they didn't head towards the interstate, but instead into the little town. It came to a stop outside a rundown pub, lit with glowing neon signs. Motorcycles and pickup trucks sat in the gravel parking lot. Jace pulled the Honda in front of a closed insurance office across the street. Slightly confused and wracked with worry, he waited for the men to make their move. He wasn't sure what to expect. Were they going to drag her into the bar, or just stopping to dump the body? No, he couldn't let himself think like that. Clary was alive; he could feel it.

Slowly, sliding the car window down, a light breeze wafted in his face. Even the gentle wind chilled him to the core. He eyed the men cautiously as the doors of the black van creaked open. They were visibly upset, arguing with each other over something Jace couldn't quite hear. One of the dark haired men turned and punched the other in the shoulder. It was more of a reprimand than actual hit, like he was striking a puppy with a newspaper. Still the little thump allowed Jace to catch a glimpse of the man's profile. He looked oddly familiar, but he couldn't place him. His mind automatically went back to his tumultuous and brutal childhood. The men who had Clary could have held him as a baby. Valentine had a way of keeping his followers, either through fear or brainwashing.

"Fuck!" He muttered under his breath as the men walked into the bar. Clary didn't get out with them, and they looked a little too comfortable to be holding a teenage hostage in their van. When the bar door slammed shut, he leapt from the Honda and sprinted towards the van. He cleared the entire two lane road in two thunderous bounds. He knew he should try to look a little less suspicious, but at that point it didn't matter. Saving Clary was the only thing he cared about, and he still held out the tiniest feeling of hope that she was still in that van.

Arms out, he slammed into the side of the vehicle with a thud. His chest heaved wildly as he grappled with the handle on the driver's side. "Mother fucker!" He screamed, no longer worried who was watching. He ran to the other side, and clutched the silver handle in his fingers. _Click. _The passenger side door swung open, and he jumped into the van. "Clary!" He shouted her name, and waited anxiously for a reply as he climbed into the backseat. With the exception of the few pieces of trash that littered the floorboard, the backseat was empty. Hope fading, he eyed the trunk. Nothing. Just some yellow synthetic rope, that made goose bumps rise on his bare forearms. They had done something horrible to Clary. A sick lump rose in the back of his throat, and Jace began to tremble. Part of him wanted to cry for what might have happened. Another part wanted to march into that bar and gut them both with a broken beer bottle for even laying a hand on his girl. But neither of those things would bring her back.

He took a deep breath, and tried to gather his thoughts. He'd followed the ominous black van all day. That didn't mean Clary was alive, but it did mean she was close. He stepped out into the fading daylight and turned to stare at the road. The men hadn't been out of his sight for more than a few minutes. So whatever they did with Clary happened within that short time span.

He eyed the mud splashed tires on the van, and suddenly a light bulb went off in his head. Breaking out into a dead sprint, he jumped back in the Honda and attempted to find the road that the van had taken. Going about sixty in a thirty-five mile per hour zone, he zoomed passed the exit ramp and up the back road where he first reencountered the van. He had to click the lights of the Honda on, the road was shaded by a thick cover of trees. Slowing the car to a snail's pace, he meticulously scanned the road for any clue that the men had been there.

The muscles in his back tensed as he thought about Clary out here all alone. She probably hated him by now. Maybe she thought he abandoned her, just left her at the failing mercy of Valentine's men. She was probably cold, terrified and crying. He hoped she was crying,. Dead people couldn't cry. He could picture the big tears rolling down her cheeks, the way they felt warm and wet against his bare skin. His hands shook around the steering wheel as he moved slowly into the gray evening, without any sign of Clary's presence.

The black asphalt rolled beneath the tires of the Honda while Jace's eyes grew weary of the yellow lines and the indistinguishable woodsy landscape. How could he tell where they were? Everything looked the same out here, just thick brush and trees lining the road. Black road, yellow lines, green trees over and over again. That hopeless feeling began to rise in the pit of his stomach again. Black, yellow, green… black, yellow, green… black, yellow, green…black, yellow, green…

"This is fucking useless." He screamed, slamming his hands into the dashboard. "There's no fucking way I'm going to find her out here." Jace reached into his pocket, searching for his cell phone. It was time to call the police. He slowed the car to a stop and began to dial. _9 1_... But something strange caught his eye, just up ahead he could see something in the road. He inched forward, hesitant about elevating his hopes. As he moved closer, he realized what he was seeing was muddy tire tracks. Immediately images of the dirty van filled his worried mind. His heart leapt into his throat, but he tried to calm himself. "Anybody could have done this." At this point, it didn't matter if he was wrong. This was the only promising lead he had found, and he had to investigate. Hitting END on his cell phone, the _91 _disappeared.

The tire tracks thickened and finally came to a stop at a clearing on the edge of the road. He peered through the break in the trees and could barely make out a rickety barn in the quickly fading light. The place looked dangerous, like it could fall apart any second. Swiftly jerking the Honda to a stop, he pulled off the road and jumped out of the car as he killed the engine.

"Clary!" He shouted. "Are you out here?" His voice was full of worried panic. Listening intently, his ears were only met with silence. He ran towards the barn. The door had fallen from its hinges and lay just inside its frame. He hesitantly stepped in, fearful of what he might find. The barn was almost completely dark except for a square chunk of hazy light that fell through the doorway, and long strands of the faintest glow that streaked in through the rickety boards. "Clary!" He called again, pleading for a response. Nothing.

He took his phone from his pocket and shined the light around him. He saw nothing but rotting hale bales, rusted tools and the end of some rope, yellow rope. For some reason this struck a chord. He stood their silently for a moment wondering why this was important. He moved forward, and by the time he realized that it was the same yellow rope from the van, his foot tapped against something on the dark ground. A tiny low moan hit his worried ears. His heart leapt with overwhelming elation.

Shining the phone at his feet, he saw a mop of fiery disheveled hair splayed out across the dusty floor. "Clary! Are you okay?" he exclaimed, his voice bubbling with excited relief. She managed to let out another moan, slightly louder this time. He bent down and scooped her up into his arms. Pushing the messy locks from her face, he pressed his lips gently against her forehead. He let out a deep sigh. A tear threatened to roll from Jace's eyes, but he choked down the lump in his throat. "Fuck, I'm getting soft." he muttered jokingly as he maneuvered around the junk littered floor of the decaying barn.

Clary let out another moan, but she still hadn't spoken a single coherent word. He was beginning to get worried that something was truly wrong with her. All of those terrible images came flooding back into his head. What if they had hurt her? What if they had taken advantage of her? What if she was too shocked to speak? "I'll gut them like a fucking fish!" He screamed into the darkness. He was moving faster now, eager to see her face. He felt something wet running down his arm, but it was too dark to see what it was.

He was relieved to finally reach the barn door and ran as fast he could out into the wet grass and mud. Jace flung open the door of the Honda, and his eyes grew wide as he lay Clary in the front seat. The interior car light cast an eerie glow are contorted frame. Her body was almost completely limp, eyes barely open. And the blood, he was covered in it. "Oh Fuck!" Her pallid complexion was smeared with dirt and long red streaks. Her hair was matted to her scalp in a viscous pool of congealed blood.

He had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. "Clary." His voice was just a choked whisper. To see her like this did something to him, it stirred something deep inside of his soul. "I'm so sorry Clary, I'll never fucking forgive myself for letting this happen to you. But it's going to be okay now. I'm here, and I won't let anything happen to you ever again. You have my fucking word." He squeezed her frail hand. "I love you." He couldn't tell if she understood, but he thought he saw a groggy nod. That was it, that was all the time he had for apologies. He had to move quickly and get them out of here. They needed a hospital. Clary probably had a concussion, and she definitely needed some stitches. And there was still the small matter of two of Valentine's thugs who would no doubt come looking for them.

With no time to waste, he leaned back her seat and buckled her in. Climbing into the driver's seat, Jace stuck the key in the ignition and the Honda purred to life. He trembled nervously as he punched the gas and once again refocused his attention on the road. There were no street lights on the deserted country lane, and it felt like the darkest place he had ever been. And with Clary slumped over beside him, covered in her own blood, maybe it was.

Luckily when they passed by the pub, the white van was still parked outside. From the sound of the place, it seemed like the party had just gotten started. He prayed that they would be there for a while. His worried mind raced faster than the Honda. He still hadn't completely figured out what was wrong with Clary. He hoped that she was just groggy from a bump on the head, but deep down he knew that that couldn't have been the only thing they did to her. Valentine was cunning and ruthless, he would have taken painstaking measures to assure that Clary couldn't escape on her own. He just hoped that he would have also assured that his brutes would have enough compassion not to kill his own daughter. But what Clary had told him about Jonathan made him wonder. He already killed one of his children, why not the other?

When the silver car finally rolled back onto the highway, he breathed another sigh of relief and dug in his pocket for his phone. Flipping it open, he searched for Alec's number and hit send. One ring.

"Bro!" Alec exclaimed, his voice full of nervous excitement. "What in the hell is wrong with you? We've been trying to call all day! Are you guys all right?"

"Not exactly." Jace's voice began to crack. He paused to regain his composure "Clary's been hurt."

"Oh God, what happened? Is she all right?" Alec's voice was full of urgency.

"I think she'll be okay. She got hit on the head pretty hard. She needs help. Look, I don't have time to explain everything. I need you to do something for me. Are you near your computer?"

"Yeah man."

"Listen, we're just a little north of Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, I need to know how to get to the closest hospital."

Alec sensed the worry in his voice. His brother was troubled. It was so strange seeing Jace like this, seeing him care about something…seeing him afraid. It worried him. "I'm on it man." He paused as his fingers rhythmically tapped the keyboard. "I think I've got it. Are you on highway 81?"

"I think so." Jace was fairly certain, but he couldn't be sure. He spent the entire day staring at the back of the black van. That was the only thing he had concentrated on, road signs hadn't seemed that important at the time.

"All right, then." He replied wearily. "You need to take Exit 15 onto South Enola Road, look for 111 Front Street. The hospital should be there."

"Thanks man, I gotta go. I'm driving like a fucking maniac, we're in a hurry."

"Jace." His voice was trembling. "Are you all right? I can send someone out there to help you. We're really worried about you guys."

"Don't be." Jace sighed, unconfident in his words. "I'm going to take better care of Clary. Nothing else is going to happen to her." He paused and took a deep breath. "As long as I'm alive."

"God, what's wrong with you man? Don't talk like that. You're going to be fine. You're Lancelot, remember? You slay the bad guy and get the girl." He mustered a false chuckle.

"Stop fucking around Alec. This is serious." He sighed deeply. "Look, you're my brother and I fucking love you, okay? Just remember that for me."

A lump formed in Alec's throat. The words were choked, but he finally managed to say it. "I love you too man." _Click. Silence. _The phone slipped from Alec's grip and his head fell worriedly into his hands.

"Jace." A small, muffled voice finally called from the passenger's seat.

A/N: I'm really sorry about the huge huge epic delay! I'll try to get another chapter out each week. But I've been so busy writing stuff for school that there hasn't been a lot of time for fun. Anyway, thanks for reading and reviews are better than scraping your beaten loved ones off a dirty barn floor. ;)


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